


Black Star

by Echomcload, pet_genius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Bullying, Death Eaters, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gay Regulus Black, Gay Severus Snape, Good Death Eaters, James Potter Bashing, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Lily Evans Potter Lives, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Marauders Bashing, Minor Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, POV Alternating, POV Lily Evans Potter, POV Lucius Malfoy, POV Multiple, POV Regulus Black, POV Severus Snape, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regulus Black Lives, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape-centric, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, Young Regulus Black, Young Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 52
Words: 108,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echomcload/pseuds/Echomcload, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pet_genius/pseuds/pet_genius
Summary: Complete! AU, diverges from canon after Snape tries to apologize to Lily. Regulus Black is nothing like his brother, and when he and Severus cross paths, nothing can stop them or come in their way. From Severus's last two years in Hogwarts to the end of the First War, lots of Black family drama and Death Eater shenanigans!
Relationships: Regulus Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 639
Kudos: 414





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi wonderful people of AO3, hope you enjoy the story and leave reviews! Thank you for reading - it is a privilege to write!

Severus’s fifth year, after Lily did not accept his apology: 

_Astonishing,_ Severus thought to himself in the abandoned dungeon he had locked himself in. S _imply incredible. Amazing._ Five years and Potter and his gang never made him cry, and not for lack of trying. But now he was crying, not because of them, although Potter had recently broken a record in being a swine, but because of Lily. Lily was furious with him! She was rightfully furious, perhaps, but he could not believe it was over, just like that. He never got a chance to tell her the truth, to explain his side of things – could he have, even if she had given him a hundred chances?

Now he was crying. Six years of friendship, gone, every hope - dashed. The only good thing about his hometown, the only real friend he had, turned her back on him and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. All because of his big mouth… and Dumbledore.

_Should I just end it? Who will even care?_

The door moved. Severus was startled – he thought it was Black. Well, it was _a_ Black – his brother, Regulus. _Great. Just what I need, another Black to mock me_. "Err, sorry," Regulus said, and before he ran out, he added: “I am not my prat of a brother. No need to flinch away from me."

***

Every year, the Blacks hosted the official Ministry Examiners for dinner after the OWLs. This year was no different, except for one thing - it was Sirius’s OWL year. Yet nearly every examiner Regulus saw raved about a certain Slytherin student of no repute, who had apparently brewed complicated potions in record time, could cast non-verbal spells in his OWL year, whose charms work was impeccable, who appeared to have no idea how unusual it was. Abraxas Malfoy boasted that his Lucius had been singing this student’s praises since he came to the school, that he had apprenticed under him already, and that he expected great things of him. What was even more interesting was how much it infuriated Sirius, who scored well in Transfiguration and in DADA, and did well in general, but had not accomplished anything the examiners considered noteworthy, despite the fact that they all knew him since he was a boy. When somebody asked Sirius if he knows Severus Snape, and are they friends, by any chance, for what felt like the 100th time, Sirius excused himself and Regulus could swear he never heard the door in his room slam so loudly before - and that was saying something. Severus Snape? The one he’d caught sobbing alone in the dungeon after the DADA test? He had just assumed the infamous Slytherin half-blood was in a state because he’d failed everything. But anyone who had the examiners raving like this, who stirred such hatred in his idiot brother, was worth keeping an eye on.

***

 _Two more years and I’ll be out of this cesspool forever,_ Severus told himself as he returned for his sixth year. _Two more years… all you need to do is stay far away from Potter and his gang._ Severus found himself spending most of his time in the library or in the Slytherin dungeon, alone. Trying not to think of _her_ , condescending, judgmental _her_ , pretending she does not know him all summer, with her friends and her money and her family and her… everything. She was just another one of _them_ now. Yet when he thought of what he’d called her his insides turned. She didn't know the truth about Black and Potter and the werewolf, did she? How could she have?

It was best to drag his many books into the empty dungeon he made his own and not think about it, to stay away from everyone – especially the lake… just thinking about the lake made him want to drown himself in it. He heard a knock. "What do you want?"

"You don't own this room, do you?" Regulus said.

 _Black. He probably_ does _own this room. His great great grandfather must have actually built it. Terrific._ "I don't own much of anything,” he spat. “Well, what is it?"

"I just wanted to sit here, but if it's so hard for you I can go somewhere else!" Regulus left, huffing, leaving a very perplexed Severus behind. 

***

The two sat in silence, and studied. Severus occasionally commented on the younger one's notes, but most of the time they were quiet. Severus no longer flinched at the sight of him. In fact, he finally realized why everyone talked about how handsome his brother was – the gravity-defying cheekbones, the gray eyes – and he was confused. When Black reached for his ink bottle their fingers touched for less than a second, brushed against one another, and this startled Severus so much he knocked the bottle over, but Regulus seemed not to have noticed or to be upset at all about having to start his essay over. "Evanesco," Severus muttered, and they stayed there, Severus, deeply ashamed, and looking as though knocking a bottle over was an offense punishable by whipping, and promising to be more careful next time, and Regulus, bewildered by Severus’s reaction, long after both had finished their essays, though neither of them had admitted it.


	2. Chapter 2

Regulus took his study partner’s hand suddenly, and held it. Severus was not startled, did not pull his hand back. It was a good sign. He merely opened his eyes wide, his thin chest falling and rising under his robe, and his lips parted very very slightly. “Don’t look so surprised, Snape. You can’t think I actually want to spend all my time studying.”

“What _do_ you want?” Severus asked. What could anybody want with him?

“You, Snape.”

This did not make any sense. _Isn’t he one of the Sacred 28?_

“Everyone in Slytherin knows I’m a half-blood, Black.”

Regulus was dismissive: "So? A wizard like you, no one will care.”

Severus held a second finger up, and enlightened Black about what everybody already knew and bothered to comment on at every opportunity: "I'm dirt poor".

Impossibly arrogant and charitable at the same time, Regulus dismissed this concern too: “And I am filthy rich. I don't care about it."

Regulus inched closer to him.

"Everyone hates me,” Severus reminded him, holding a third finger up with his free hand.

Regulus simply declared: "I am not everyone."

Severus had one last card to play, the ace, but he had to admit to himself he never thought he would have to actually play it. It was not exactly a secret, was it?

"But you are so beautiful and I am so -"

Frustrated that this was taking so long, Regulus did not let him finish his sentence. "So what? What are you?" He asked, his tone impatient and sharp, and his grey eyes fixed on his incredulous study partner, whose hand stirred in Regulus’s hand, but that he did not pull, and he said the most awful words:

"I am ugly".

Regulus was struck. "What? Who told you that? You’re beautiful."

Dreadful comprehension eclipsed Severus’s psyche. He pulled his hand away as if he’d touched a hot stove. All the pieces came into place, to reveal an awful picture. _Is this another “trick”? Is Sirius behind this, trying to humiliate me? Was trying to kill me not enough?_

"I am not stupid," he said sternly, holding on to his pride. "Don't come here again."

***

“I am not making fun of you," Regulus insisted.

“Yes you are, you and your filthy brother, you two are up to something, and you can tell him I won't fall for his tricks again,” Severus refused to budge.

"He is a prat, but even he won’t stoop to talking to me just to get one past you, Snape!"

"Oh, there is no limit to what Sirius will do to get one past me, Regulus! Get. Away. From. Me!" He was suddenly in a rage, beyond the reach of reason.

"What did he do?" Regulus asked, scared.

"I can't tell you."

"Well, can you give me a hint?"

"If Lily didn't get it, you won't".

"Come on, what is it? How bad can it be?"

"I can’t tell you, do you understand? I can't give you a hint, I can't write it down, I can't paint a picture, I can't explain it, and I told you to go away."

Severus was crying again - hot tears welled on the corner of his dark eyes, matting his long eyelashes, then bursting and streaming down his thin face, past the Roman nose, and the sharp chin. Regulus was not lying: to him, Severus was beautiful, But there was nothing he could do to prove it. He went away, feeling thoroughly confused.

The next morning in the great hall, Regulus could not help staring at his stupid older brother, and fury short-circuited his mind. Him and his little friends, thinking they are so great, running around doing whatever they want, terrorizing the whole school…

He found himself marching over to the Gryffindor table, and everybody were already staring at him before he realized what he was doing, so there was no going back. He walked straight toward his older brother, and spilled an entire jug of pumpkin juice on his big head. His shocked brother spit out the juice and shouted: "what in the name of Morgan's tit is your problem, Reg?"

Regulus realized he did not think this through. "I DON’T KNOW!" He shouted, realizing how ridiculous he was being only mid-shout, and Sirius threw a plate at him, and everyone died of laughter, and he lost his house 50 points and earned himself a week in detention, but it was worth it just to see the look on his brother's pompous face.

***

The Gryffindor versus Slytherin war was rekindled, and for a change, everybody else was targeted as well, not just Severus. He took to casting a supersensory charm on himself before leaving the dorm – it made it impossible to focus in the classroom, but the same could be said for being pelted with a dung bomb. Regulus, who had started it all, still could not provide an explanation, insisting that it was between him and his brother, but also that he did not know what his brother had done wrong.

He cornered Severus one day. "Can you tell me now, so that I know why I'm in trouble with Slughorn, at least?"

A dark cloud passed through Severus's face. "Ask Slughorn, he knows. But he won't tell you. I can't tell you, and I can’t tell you why I can’t tell you.” Regulus was annoyed and he started to leave – he was almost gone – “Stay,” Severus suddenly let out. “It was great that you did that.” Regulus stayed.

“Do you believe me now, at least?” Regulus asked. Severus hardly remembered what their original fight was about. “Believe you about what, Regulus?” He asked, impatiently.

“That you are beautiful.”

“I believe that you are blind”.

“The first blind seeker in the history of the school,” Regulus retorted with an air of self-importance.

Of course. _Quidditch._ Severus refused to watch the game on general principle, but he could not help but notice that unlike his Gryffindor counterpart, Regulus was able to hold a conversation about something other than Quidditch. Actually, he had forgotten Regulus was even on the team. He decided to take more of an interest in the sport. _He must look incredible on a broomstick, so there is that, at least._

***

"Look who decided to show up to the match", Severus's housemates noted, with a tone of surprise. Lily was there too, making this the first match both of them attended. Well, what else were they going to do with their afternoons now?

"My idiot pumpkin juice pouring brother ducks the bludger, unfortunately," Sirius’s voice resounded…

"BLACK!" McGonagall shouted at him.

"I'm sorry," he corrected himself, "my perfectly _average_ brother…"

But Severus was not interested in commentary. He only had eyes for Regulus, hovering gracefully in the sun, the wind blowing his hair onto and away from his face… The firm hand on the stick… _Great,_ he thought – just what I needed. _Another thing that makes me a freak._


	3. Chapter 3

Regulus was used to getting his way, and being a Black meant that most of the time, he did. Increasingly, however, he was finding that this was not always the case: in love and in war, he did not always get his way. He lost at Quidditch as often as he’d won, and when it came to love, the one he loved point-blank refused to accept it. He had to make do with the way Severus’s long hair got caught in his long-lashed doe eyes, with the slender-wristed hands that protruded from his sleeves, the way his nimble fingers held the wand, the fingernails that he bit to near nonexistence… Otherwise, that was it. The boy he loved existed from only the neck up. Oh, he could do great things from the neck up, but Regulus wanted more. After all, he really was dating beneath his station. Severus was a half-blood, and this was sure to upset his mother even more than the fact that he was a man, but whenever he tried to remove Severus’s shirt, he was met with flat refusal. Blacks were not used to frustration.

***

The Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match was behind them, and it was a disaster. "How could you lose to that Ravenclaw?" Severus shouted at Regulus. "I can't believe it, this puts Gryffindors in the lead, they'll be gloating for months!"

They were in their usual dungeon, where Severus had waited for Regulus to arrive.

Regulus took off his sweaty robes. Severus was stunned - he was _exquisite,_ so beautiful, so perfect, and so… here. Severus never imagined this could be real for him. Except for the fading yellowish souvenirs of Bludgers from games past, Regulus looked like he was sculpted from marble, and Severus could not suppress a gasp of longing.

"James is a great seeker, Sev" - Severus winced - "sorry, sorry."

"I asked you not to call me that!" Severus said, betrayal in his voice.

 _So many rules just to talk to you_ , Regulus thought, _and you won’t even let me look at you._ "He is still a great seeker, Se-ve-rus."

"Mediocre at everything else. I much prefer you.”

"So… are you going to let me stand here half-naked alone like an idiot forever?"

 _Can I_ ? Severus wondered. _Can I just stay here forever and stare at the inexplicable beauty of Regulus Arcturus Black?_

"I did not ask you to take your shirt off, although I do appreciate it,” he said, trying to sound casual.

"Please? I could use a victory today.”

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Only at your idiocy."

Severus undid his buttons to reveal a pale and skinny torso with clearly visible ribs and unsightly scars of someone who'd been lashed with a whip and small, circular burns, and it was about the least funny thing Regulus had ever seen. His horror must have been obvious, as Severus got dressed again faster than Regulus could close his mouth.

"I told you I was ugly,” he said bitterly. “See you around, Reg."

Severus left, humiliated to the core, and Regulus stayed behind, horrified. _How could I have been so stupid_ , both of them thought.

***

The next day, Severus was not at the Great Hall for breakfast and he was not at the Great Hall for lunch. For the first time in his life, he missed classes. What was the point of classes? He knew everything anyway ( _not that your teachers are impressed with you,_ he thought). 

He surveyed his life, and he tried to be objective, to have some perspective, but his life came up short in every conceivable sense. A _half-blood, so not good enough for the purebloods and not interesting enough for anyone else. No one is impressed that I can do magic better than anyone in here. My own dad hates me. Everybody here hates me, and unless I spend the rest of my life on Polyjuice that’s unlikely to change. Lily will never forgive me. Reg will never love someone like me. This is supposed to be the time of my life and I am miserable._ He had come to a decision, and he allowed himself to feel sorry for his lot in life for one moment, to feel sorry for himself that this was really all he could do to make his pain stop.


	4. Chapter 4

With his perfect attendance record, Severus did not know that his plan was about to backfire. The house elf that cleaned the Slytherin dorm rooms found him hanging.

He came to in the hospital wing, under the piercing gaze of two blue eyes. He refused to meet them. "Why?" Dumbledore asked him. _What a stupid question_. Severus said nothing. He was going to become even more of a joke than he already was. Why couldn't the castle just let him go?

“I confounded the elf. No one needs to know, Mr. Snape. But you must answer, it’s for your own good. Why?”

_The nerve of this man. My own good. Was putting a silencing charm on me for my own good, too? It certainly would have been more convenient if Potter had simply let the werewolf eat me. Next time, it’s the Killing Curse. Prohibiting me from talking, then making me talk. Make up your mind, Dumbledore. What did I do to deserve this?_

Severus continued to say nothing, and fixed his gaze as far away from Dumbledore as he could. Dumbledore ordered him to spend his time in the hospital wing if he wasn’t in class. Over the next few days, he felt like every portrait in the castle was following him, like he was being watched constantly. At the full moon, he wondered – _maybe I’ll just get in there and finally die. It’ll make Sirius happy, at least. Of course, with my luck, I’ll just get infected._ He stayed in bed. He skipped classes. He missed meals.

Regulus did not know what to think – whether to be insulted or worried, heartbroken, or angry. Or maybe just forget about the mangy half-blood and focus on something else, anything else. But he sensed there was something about him, something everybody else missed, and he simply could not think of anybody else. Severus Snape had been on his mind since the last dinner the Blacks threw for the examiners, and he was not going anywhere.

Unfortunately, Severus abandoned “their” empty dungeon and Regulus had no idea who to ask where he was. It occurred to him in a flash of horror, that there was one place he did not look – the Hospital Wing.

***

Regulus parted the curtain and found his Severus, somehow thinner, even more defeated, yet paradoxically, even more defiant, staring vacantly into space.

“Severus, what are you doing here?”

“Go away”.

“You aren’t going to classes.”

“Go away”.

“You aren’t eating.”

Irritation appeared on the previously expressionless face. “You’re not my mother.”

 _I should hope so,_ Regulus thought.

“Tell me what’s going on. No excuses.”

How had Severus managed to become even more impassive, even emptier? “Why are you here? Don’t you have Quidditch or the Slug Club or something else that’s actually important?”

“Because I’m a Black and I get what I want.”

_That much was irrefutable. But he is not getting an answer out of me. If he has a problem with that, he can take it up with Dumbledore._

“Go want something else then.”

“Hey, what did I ever do to you? I never said you were ugly.”

“The look on your face said it, inbred.”

Regulus swallowed his hurt. “I was worried. What’s so hard to… never mind.” He got up. _To hell with this,_ he thought, and then a cold hand gently wrapped itself around his arm.

“Don’t go.”

“Make up your mind”.

“Don’t go, please”.

“Then spill it.”

“Please, Reg, just don’t go.”

“Give me one reason.”

With shaking hands, Severus unbuttoned his shirt, and it felt like it took him ten whole minutes, ten minutes of torture and disbelief, ten minutes in which the fingers that were so adept at cutting up potions ingredients trembled too much to work a button… Regulus tried to suppress his disgust – not at Severus, but at whoever did that to him, but it was even worse when he had time to study it. He must have been white as a ghost as he surveyed the landscape of his back and hands. “Is my brother…” he managed to whisper.

“No.”

“Then who –“ _who would do that to you, who do I need to kill –_ and Severus answered: “The Muggle.”

“What Muggle? Filch? He’s a Squib.”

“My filthy father, toad-brain! Not all of us have never met a Muggle before we came to King’s Cross!”

All Regulus heard was that his father treated him worse than a house elf, the rest of it went over his head. Impotent anger rose in him and through his fisted hands – _so this is how the Muggles treat their children?_ Severus started to button his shirt back up – much faster than he took it off, of course – “Severus, please,” Regulus whispered. “Can I stay here?”

Severus gave a small nod, still looking down.

Regulus climbed onto the bed – it was really only big enough to fit one person comfortably – and he held his Severus, hands around his waist, with one hand sometimes exploring the uneven surface of his skin, but for most of the night, he only held him, his soft breath on the back of his neck, his heart beating through his chest so that he was sure Severus could feel it inside his own body. Severus shivered and shivered and shivered, and they did not move until they fell asleep, and the gray dawn found them exactly like that, and when they woke up, with stiff muscles from the unnatural position, neither of them could believe it.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus spent the rest of the week in the library, trying to figure out how to break a silencing charm – the words “he tried to kill me and Dumbledore let him get away with it” lodged themselves very firmly on his windpipe, just like they had in that excruciating talk with _her_ , but since he had no one to tell them to, it was easier… Now, however, he dreaded that the charm he was operating under would take Reg away too.

That night in the Hospital Wing was too perfect to be real. He had never felt this way before, as he removed his shirt, and part of him knew something awful was going to happen to him, but he would have let it because he wanted Reg to stay, and Reg stayed, and nothing awful came, only the most wonderful, most improbable night he had in his entire life. He expected to be mocked, humiliated, for the scars – for the cigarette burns and the welts he let his father inflict on him ( _you’re a freak, you’re scum, nothing but a no good freeloader_ ), and when that didn’t happen, he expected to be abandoned again. In fact, he did everything in his power to make Reg go, but then he stayed – and came closer to him, and the resemblance to his brother made him panic – _what is he going to do to me now?_ But this Black did nothing except hold him like he had never been held before, and he fully expected to die because this surely could not be happening – _you don’t deserve it, half-blood muck_ – he expected the hand that caressed him to choke him or land a blow and his body was so tense that even the gentlest touch of Regulus Black’s soft hands made him spasm, but the blow never came. There was only the embrace, only the heart pounded through the muscular chest straight into Severus’s back, at a slightly elevated but even rhythm (Severus’s heart raced, his breathing was shallow, except for the occasional gasp when his body braced for a beating, of course). He shook and trembled involuntarily – _move and it’s over, you’ll do something wrong, you will scare him off, you nasty mongrel_ , and so many words and so many feeling struggled to come out that he had no idea what to do or say anyway, _and Regulus Black is in my bed and he is so beautiful and perfect that I can’t believe he is real._

When they woke up, Severus wondered – _will he know what this means to me? Does he know he saved my life?_

He decided he had to break the spell. He had to tell him.

Sadly, that resulted in another conversation with the Headmaster.

“I am afraid I cannot let you continue on your quest.”

_You are garbage, you lost Lily, you did not deserve her in the first place, you- but Reg…_

Suddenly, Severus saw everything clearly for the first time: _You are not garbage, they simply do not care. There is no amount of self-loathing that can change that. I am a human being and a wizard like everyone and I’m being treated like dirt for no reason._

A rush of hatred overcame him – “or what?” He asked Dumbledore. This had to be the most disobedient thing he had ever done. “Or I will be forced to modify your memory,” Dumbledore explained, to Severus’s sudden and all-consuming horror. “Mr. Lupin deserves a chance at an education, and he is not at fault.”

_And I am? Of course you are, you stupid - NO!_

“I don’t care what happens to Lupin,” Severus said through gritted teeth. 

“The Black family has made considerable donations, including to the scholarship fund you yourself have benefited from – my hands are tied. Let go of this, Mr. Snape, it is in your own best interest.”

 _In my own best interest to cover up for my own attempted murder?_ His head was spinning.

“Just let me tell one person, please –!“ He managed to say, and a glimmer of hope emerged, and was immediately extinguished as Dumbledore informed him that he must abandon his unprofitable quest, or next time, it would be obliviation, and left before Severus could open his mouth again.

He felt like he had been hit in the head with an iron skillet. Helplessness dizzied him, as every chance he had of not pushing Regulus away was taken from him. If Dumbledore had not left, he would have begged, he would have actually begged, but Dumbledore did leave, and only afterwards did it occur to Severus to say that the one person he wanted to talk to is just as much a Black as Sirius. But that would not have made a difference. He had to stop trying, or it was obliviation – oblivion. He could do without the memories of that event, but he could not accept the risk that he himself would start believing James had actually saved him or that Sirius would try again, and succeed this time.

He wished there was magic that could make Regulus simply wring it out of his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

There was no solution, no answer, and Regulus’s frustration was growing in tandem with Severus’s despair.

“You don’t trust me,” Regulus accused him.

“I do-“

“Then prove it,'' he demanded.

“You don’t trust me that I can’t?” Severus asked him, pained.

“Frankly, no, I do not. The whole thing sounds ridiculous,” Regulus said, and cruelly suggested: “Maybe my brother did not do anything to you.”

“I will do anything for you, Reg. But I cannot tell you. Don’t be cross with me, please.”

Regulus wore Severus’s father’s expression on Sirius’s features – it was the stuff of nightmares. Suddenly, he seemed to have had an idea, and he relaxed. “I’m not cross with you. Come here.”

Severus came over to him, and Regulus put one hand on his cheek and another through his hair, and as he held up his face and kissed him, he felt Severus’s body getting excited in the heat of passion and longing. He licked the length of his neck and Severus’s hand clutched at his robe. He stopped abruptly and looked at Severus looking at him with confusion, biting his lips, dying for more, not daring to ask. The dark eyes, like pools reflecting the night sky, seemed to ask him: “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

Regulus had to admit he enjoyed it. “My turn,” he said playfully, and as Severus busied himself with his body, Regulus told himself that soon he would get it all out of Severus, whether Severus wanted him to or not.

***

“And… that’s it. Veritaserum.”

Severus wiped his hand on his forehead.

“Excellent,” Regulus proclaimed. “Ironically, I was not entirely truthful, I do not need to write an essay about it or demonstrate it before the class.”

“Then why did you ask me to show you how…”

“I love watching you work, for one. I knew you would make it perfectly, and I intend to use it.”

“You do? On who?”

“Drink up”.

Regulus expected Severus to resist, but to his surprise, he looked him straight in the eye and poured everything down his throat at once.

“Do you love me?” Regulus asked.

“Yes,” Severus answered him, as if he was confirming what day of the week it was.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t know me, or you’re being stupid, you will hate me like they all do in the end.”

“I am not stupid, and I won’t. Do you want to tell me?”

“More than anything, Reg.”

Regulus had to ask something he knew would make Severus uncomfortable – he had to make sure the potion was working.

“How did you get your scars?”

“My father hates magic. He drinks and he whips us.”

 _Good._ Severus had never actually said it plainly before. The potion was working. 

“You are hurting me, Reg.”

“I need to know it’s working. What did my brother do to you?”

The next words out of Severus’s mouth were an incoherent mess, and his eyes started to twitch. “The Shrieking Shack, it’s… AAHHH! They’re keeping, no, make it stop, he-“ (as his entire face was a series of tics, his hand covered his mouth and he forcibly removed it with the other one) “Dumbledore, and the monster, and Sirius-“

Then it was over.

The boy Regulus loved collapsed and shook, and nearly swallowed his own tongue, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was covered in cold sweat.

Regulus picked him up and carried him to the hospital wing, and when Pomfrey asked him what the hell had happened, he yelled out “Veritaserum” and collapsed to catch his breath. After minutes – eternities – of her working her damndest to put him to sleep, she said: “it is not supposed to have this effect, but he did respond to the antidote.”

“What does it mean?”

“I am not at liberty to say, Mr. Black”.

At night, he crawled back into the bed where his love lay, limp and unconscious. What he had done to Severus had nearly killed him, and he whispered, “I’m sorry, and I love you, I love you, please don’t die.”

When he woke up, Severus was still unconscious. He realized he should have used the serum on his brother instead, but the sleeping idiot next to him had drank the whole thing.

This definitely felt like the worst thing Regulus had ever done, and he had no one to take his guilt and anger out on. He knew he was never getting his nasty brother alone, not even in the summer, because he had finally got himself kicked out of the house forever. He would have to get him in public, and he did not care how many points this would cost him or how many detentions. _Sirius almost made me kill him_.

But with his gang with him all the time… What a coward, his brother was. _Where dwell the brave of heart indeed, and the family disowning hypocrites who pretend to love Muggles but commit unspeakable horror on half-bloods, who claim that being a Black doesn’t matter to them but don’t hesitate to reap the benefits of the family name, who then move on to become honorary Potters – he would not consider living like a Muggle, would he?_

He heard his brother launch into a tirade about Muggle-born rights again, and shouted across the Great Hall: “The muggles are savages. What do you know about them?”

“What do _you_ know?” Sirius shouted back.

“Oh, I have seen their work, dear brother.”

Lily chimed in, asked what he was talking about – “be quiet, mudblood,” he hissed at her – she was just another one of the worthless people who hurt Severus, she was why he could not even call him “Sev”, and as far as Regulus was concerned, she was to remain a mudblood until she apologized.

“Go to hell, Regulus,” Sirius yelled, and the teachers broke them apart before they came to blows. Regulus resented this to no end - barring a conscious Severus, the thing he wanted most to see was his brother sporting a couple of bruises.

Naturally, he got detention, and naturally, he did not care.

He was tasked with arranging books in the library – dull, pointless work, easily achievable by magic, but he was forced to do it all by hand like a mindless Muggle… Including a book entitled “Magic of the Mind”. The task suddenly did not seem so dull. He opened the book and quickly found out that there was a way Severus could tell him without speaking. _If_ , he reminded himself with a heavy heart, _he ever wakes up._


	7. Chapter 7

A fortnight. Two weeks. For two weeks, Severus had been asleep. For two weeks, Regulus came every day to check, only to listen to Pomfrey lecture him about how three drops would have done enough damage and how a whole cauldronful might eventually prove lethal – he may not wake up the same – he may not wake up at _all_ – _How was I supposed to guess that he would drink the whole thing? I should have let it be… why couldn’t I just believe him?_

Every night, Pomfrey let out a loud sigh and said he ought to sleep in his own bed, but since he did not appear to be bothering her patient (“I don’t see how anything could be bothering him at the state he’s in, mind”), she had no reason to kick him out. Every night, he tried to recreate that first night they spent there, and every night he failed, because he was holding a body that slept like a sack of potatoes, whose rising and falling chest was the only sign that it was alive. It did not tremble or shake or shiver, it did not gasp or bite its lips or look down and sideways in that adorably awkward way, and it did not kiss him back. Worst of all, his last full sentence had been “You’re hurting me, Reg.”

“I love you, please wake up, I’m sorry!” Reg whispered in futile self-blame, every night. These had to be the longest two weeks of his life – he caught the Snitch exactly zero times in their practices and nearly fell off the broomstick twice. He was distracted in class. He was distracted all the time.

Regulus’s only comfort was that even if Severus never woke up, he could always try and pry it out of his brother’s banal brain. All it would take would be a good look into his vacant eyes… if he ever got good enough at legilimency, that is.

That was what he thought of as he stared into the darkness, wide awake and wishing he was dead next to Severus who had been sleeping like he was. The darkness engulfed him, seeped through his pores and into his blood. It was thick, viscous. His hand was squeezing Severus's flat palm and his heart felt like it might take permanent residence in the pit of his stomach. Then, he felt the flat palm move, squeeze his own hand very softly. His heart started pounding.

“Reg? Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Why am I here? How long?”

“Veritaserum. I gave it to you. Two weeks.”

A stunned silence followed.

“I took it?”

“Can you forgive me?”

After some quiet deliberation, Severus said: “I heard everything. I think it was everything. I… I love you, Reg.”

“I know. I love you too.”

“I know.”

Regulus lay on his side to face Severus, who looked at him with serenity he had never seen on his face before. That first night was nothing, nothing, compared to this – _he is okay, he is better than okay_ – Regulus kissed every scar and held him with wild fervor and he knew that even if it had to end tomorrow for some unfathomably stupid reason, they had tonight. And Severus felt for the first time that maybe he _was_ beautiful, maybe he could just believe it and nothing bad will happen. Two weeks of safety, solitude and silence, blissful sleep, and no Tobias, no James, no Sirius, no werewolves, no Dumbledore to threaten and humiliate him, only Regulus whispering “I love you”, all while his mind recovered from the compounding effect of Dumbledore’s silencing charm and his own Veritaserum, combined to create an experience he had never felt before – he relaxed in the strong arms that held him, melted into them. He had no energy for anything else, after a two-week slumber. Regulus was determined to squeeze two weeks’ worth of love out of one night, and every time he came up for air, he said “I missed you”, and Severus answered back: “I’ve been right here”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading and commenting! Hope you enjoyed the sweet moment!


	8. Chapter 8

Severus was finally released from the Hospital Wing (“please give me a chance to miss you two,” Pomfrey said wearily as she signed the paperwork).

He and Regulus were finally truly together - as together as two men could be - the distrust between them was finally gone, and they had at last exchanged their “I love you’s”. True, Severus had said it to Regulus under the influence of Veritaserum and Regulus had said it to Severus when he thought nobody could hear him, so this was not the sweet and tender romantic moment most people dreamed about, but both of them thought it was better for it.

“You do realize that I still don’t know what my dear brother did, though,” Regulus pointed out.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Severus shrugged. “It’s bad enough that somebody wants me not talking about it, bad enough that even the Veritaserum did not work, so that should tell you something.”

“This is why I have to know! But I think there is a way.”

“Oh, no. Not again,” Severus protested. “That’s two for two now that Blacks have nearly-” his throat seized up, and he cursed himself for forgetting that the words “killed me” were exactly the words he was having such difficulties with in the first place. _Serves you right for trying to joke about it,_ he told himself.

“Nearly what?” Regulus questioned him, and Severus rolled his eyes. “Nearly ran his hand through your hair and pulled you closer to get his hands on that chest of yours?” He teased.

“Don’t make me retch,” Severus interjected as an overly vivid image came into his mind. It was hard enough to deal with how much they looked like one another without Regulus hammering the point in. “You’re being a pig,” he added with a smile.

“Well, I don’t think it’s dangerous, really… you won’t need to do anything.” Severus looked puzzled, and Regulus pulled the book out of his trunk. When Severus saw the title, he grabbed the book out of Regulus’s hand and opened it on the bookmarked page (he could not help but notice that even the bookmark looked more expensive than anything he owned). Regulus watched his doe eyes flick across the pages at an astonishing speed, his face going from apprehensive to stunned. “You can do that?!” He asked, agasp. “I just have to think about it? That… I think I can manage that,” he said, thinking back to the months that followed Sirius’s little joke, when he seemed to be able to do nothing but that.

“I have not had anyone to practice on,” Regulus said, almost apologetically.

“Try.” Severus could feel it, he felt near-palpable lightness as the idea that he could unburden himself of his forced secret became a possibility rather than a fantasy. “Please,” he added. He did not realize how much he had missed the feeling of not having a secret.

The book said eye contact was essential, and so Severus positioned himself face to face with Regulus, and fixed his gaze on his eyes. “Legilimens,” Regulus mumbled, and nothing happened. Nothing but a pair of black anxious eyes peered back at him.

“Well?” Severus whispered.

“Nothing.”

“Again. You have to want to know.”

Regulus was not surprised that Severus had already committed what he had read to memory.

“Legilimens,” he said again, and an image flickered in his mind - a dark, narrow tunnel.

“Again,” Severus whispered, pale, and he grabbed Regulus’s hand without realizing it.

He said it more decisively this time, and both of them saw flashes of Severus crawling down the tunnel, nearly consumed with morbid curiosity… “Yes, yes, I know I’m a dunce for going in there,” Severus raised his voice and looked away.

“I did not say that. What’s that tunnel?”

“It leads to the Shrieking Shack,” Severus answered, his heart pounding, a chill running through him. This was not working.

“I think you need to feel what you want me to feel,” Severus said, gathering his thoughts. “It’s about emotions. It says so in the book.”

“What do I want to feel, then?”

“I think… you’re curious now, so you’re seeing me when I was curious… you need to be afraid. Think of something scary.”

Regulus knew exactly what to think about. He thought back to the dreadful moment when Severus had collapsed in front of him, how his eyes had rolled back, and he was ready. “Let’s go. Legilimens.”

He saw Pomfrey leading Remus to the willow. He saw his brother telling Severus how to get past it, looking perfectly smug, and he saw Severus prodding the base of the willow with a long stick and the willow going limp… Severus’s hand clutched his again, and he saw a loose, full-grown werewolf prick up its ears and sniff the air… “No-” Regulus said, pale and horrified, “he wasn’t… no, not even he could-”

“He knew.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Are you defending him? I’m sure. He tried to kill me, Reg.”

He had said it. The charm did not work on people who already knew. His throat hadn’t seized up, words he did not want to say had not forced their way through him… he had done it. Regulus was less than ecstatic at this development. He buried his head in his hands. “He tried to feed me to a werewolf because I had inconvenienced him and his friends,” Severus said, and saying it felt like a dream. “Why are you being like that, Reg? Did I not tell you it was bad?”

Regulus looked as if _he_ had just met a werewolf. He was pale, shocked, and frankly, quite irritating.. _Is that what I have been like?_ Severus asked himself.

“I made it out alive, as you’ll observe,” he said impatiently, amazed that it had come to _him_ trying to calm Regulus down about this.

“How?!” Regulus asked, still not believing what he had seen. “You were not even bitten. What happened?”

“I see the rumors of Potter’s heroism have not reached the entire school,” Severus hissed, his bitterness returning to him. “How did he save you?” Regulus inquired.

“Saved me?! He was saving himself. And your brother. And the werewolf, of course. I told you, he knew, they all knew exactly what they had led me to.”

Regulus looked at him, not with pity but with anguish, as the pieces came together and his world came apart. Severus realized he was in the perfect state of mind for viewing the rest of the story. “Again,” he commanded, and Regulus whispered the incantation with dread.

“I cannot allow you to speak of this,” he saw Dumbledore explaining, and casting the silencing charm that had caused them so much trouble… that conversation with Lily… and he felt the humiliation Severus had felt, the helplessness and the hurt… he could not take it anymore. “That duplicitous mudblood,” he spat, taking his anger out on Lily, of all people - exactly as Severus had.

“She’s alright… used to be. I think.” Severus did not know what to think about her these days, so he tried not to think of her at all, but he could not shake the urge to tell her that he (he!) had somebody, and to share his amazement with her that it was none other than a Black.

“Tell me it gets better,” Regulus pleaded.

“A little,” Severus replied cryptically, as he took Regulus’s hand in his. He smiled his twisted closed-mouthed smile at him. “What are you so upset about? I’m the one it happened to, remember?”

“Well, exactly!” Regulus hollered, thinking he was making an obvious point. “I should have poured swelling solution on his head,” he mumbled.

“You will do no such thing. If Dumbledore finds out you know, he will expel me and erase your memory. He already threatened me with that.”

“But-”

“But what? It’s not fair? It’s not right? It’s not safe? It’s a complete and utter travesty of justice?”

“Yes!”

“Even so, you will tell no one. Don’t worry,” he pulled Regulus toward himself. “I told you, it got better.” He was suddenly strangely uplifted.

“If you want to make me happy, beat Potter at the next match.”

“I can’t believe you survived all of… everything.”

Severus said nothing, as he remembered that he had nearly killed himself. He shuddered, and passed it off as a sudden coughing fit. But he had done it - he had said the words to somebody, and that somebody was Regulus, and Regulus had heard them, and he believed him. Severus silently thanked his lucky star.


	9. Chapter 9

“I just want this match to be behind me already,” Regulus groaned. He was determined to beat Potter this time and he had practiced ceaselessly. “Don’t worry, you’ll be brilliant,” Severus said with alarming confidence.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I am simply relying on your newfound skill. You’ll be able to tell if he is bluffing right away.”

“I’m not that good at it yet,” Regulus sulked, “and I hadn’t even thought to do that.”

“And you call yourself a Slytherin. Well, good luck out there today,” Severus said with a smile.

“Just don’t do anything stupid to Potter, please.”

“I won’t,” Severus promised, and he was not lying.

Indeed, he seemed thoroughly and hopelessly bored by the match. He checked the time every five minutes, and he only perked up when it seemed like somebody was about to catch the Snitch and they could all finally go back to their common rooms. _Don’t do anything stupid to Potter, please_ , Regulus had made him promise. _Oh well._ “My former brother and James Potter both spotted the Snitch and they are flying toward it, Regulus Black looking as graceful as a ferret, as usual, and James looking like he is about to catch it, putting Gryffindor in the lead for the cup as well as in the lead for most obnoxious house… huh?” All of his usual bravado had left him. The crowd roared with laughter. Regulus was used to his brother’s commentary at this point, but James was caught completely by surprise and it was all he could do to remain airborne. Regulus caught the Snitch and Slytherin won.

The match was over. The Slytherins roared with applause. Sirius’s magically magnified voice was heard across the pitch, as he meekly explained to a furious McGonagall that he must have been Confunded.

Severus hastened to join the mass of celebrating Slytehrins before James and Sirius could catch up with him. He knew he would not be able to evade them forever, he knew that an audience had never bothered them before, but that did not mean he was going to sit there and wait. He was hardly surprised, however, when a violent hand caught and pulled him, isolating him from the pack. He kept his wand in his robe - he did not want to look like he had seen this coming. “You’ve Confunded me,” Sirius accused him with his fisted hand on his wand. “You’re a dead man, Snivellus.”

“It’s not worth the trouble to Confund someone as thick as you are,” Severus snapped back. 

“You did it to get to _me_ , to get in my head, you’ve realized you can’t get us expelled so you are trying to hurt me!” Potter said, very obviously trying to not shout. Severus rolled his eyes. 

“Hurt the man who saved my life? I would never.”

Potter looked stunned, but he regained his composure quickly. “Shouldn’t have,” he mumbled. “I don’t care about this stupid game enough to interfere with the score, Potter, so try to get it in your thick skull that somebody other than me around here might not like you.”

Sirius intervened again - “So you did do it to hurt me, then, you disgusting, filthy-”

“Why would I want to hurt _you?_ You certainly did not do anything to me that I did not have coming, did you?”

Severus knew what he had just said amounted to a full and signed confession, and that it was inadmissible, and Sirius realized this as well. He seethed. “We’ll get you for this, you wait…”

Regulus finally extricated himself from the rest of the team and watched. Severus prayed that he would not get involved, no matter what.

“The teachers are here,” he said, loud enough so that both brothers could hear him, and Regulus seemed to acknowledge this discretely and left. Severus continued: “So if you must attack me when I have done nothing, by all means do it now.”

Nothing happened.

“Thought so,” Severus smirked and watched as James put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder and hissed: “Let’s go. Don’t worry, I believe you, Padfoot.” James glared at him, and Severus did not look away. _Yes, walk away, you and your stupid nicknames._

He showed his face in the common room to celebrate with everyone, and secretly waited for a chance to celebrate in private with Regulus - after all, he had as much to do with this victory as any other member of the team, and both of them knew it.

***

Severus had never been more popular among his housemates - even though he had refused to take credit for it, everyone praised him for snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Everyone but Regulus, that is.

“I could have won, I did not need your help, nor did I want it.”

“No, you really could not have, and besides, I did not do anything to Potter. He was supposed to be focusing on the game, not listening to the commentary.”

“I do not want-”

“I did not even break any official rule, and it doesn’t even matter to me! I was trying to do something nice for you!”

“If this is your idea of nice, don’t. They will definitely retaliate. You were being really stupid. If you can’t understand why, I don’t know what to say.”

Regulus left the room. Nice as it was to finally be accepted by the Slytherins as one of their own, he wished he could have taken that Confundus back.

It soon turned out that Regulus was right - of course, Severus knew that going in, but he also knew James and Sirius were not above attacking without provocation. What he had failed to take into account was how much they cared about Quidditch, and before long, they had ambushed him and landed him in the hospital wing yet again. He had not expected to find himself back there so fast, but even worse was the fact that he did not expect Regulus to turn up any time soon. He fell asleep in a pitiful mood.

He thought he heard something and stirred awake. In the very dim light, it looked like Regulus, standing over his bed. Severus smiled, and then - a punch, a knee to the groin - _no_ \- he had somehow turned Regulus against him, like he always knew he would - until he spoke: “This is for whatever it is you’re doing to my brother, you slimy poof,” and what turned out to be Sirius spat in his face and disappeared, not left, but disappeared, vanished into thin air.

“Help!” Severus shouted hoarsely, and Pomfrey rushed in - “Sirius, he’s here, he was just here, and now he is gone-”

“Shush.” She put her hand on his forehead. “No fever. Must be a bad dream. Try to go back to sleep.”

He watched her turn her back to him and leave…

A voice without a body whispered in his ear: “Thought you’d try to tell on me again, didn’t you?”

An invisible hand that felt like it was holding some kind of cool, smooth fabric went over Severus’s mouth and he thrashed in horror, but only once, and then he lay still as the other hand continued to pummel him, and waited for Sirius to wear himself out.

Severus had learned long ago that it was best to remain still, to not scream, cry, or protest, when dealing with the type of person who could beat his own child, or indeed, attack somebody he had already put in the hospital wing. It did not help that he could not see where the next blow was coming from.

Absurdly, his mind went to the dirty river back in Spinner’s End. Eventually, Sirius got bored and left.

At least, Severus hoped he was gone, but he did not dare to move or make a sound for the rest of the night - _best that he think you’re unconscious_ , he told himself.

Tense and frozen, Severus realized two things: First, Regulus did not come. Second, Sirius could turn invisible. This definitely went a long way toward explaining how they had always managed to outmaneuver him, but it also meant he had no idea how he could ever relax again. _How, how did he do it?_


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, When Pomfrey found Severus with a couple of loose teeth and a black eye and so on, she had too many questions to know where to begin, and she opted instead to repeatedly open her mouth to scream at him and then say nothing as she realized he had tried to call her. She had seen a lot, but an attack against a sleeping patient was unprecedented. She made a record in Severus’s file, shook her head, paced back and forth, ran two sets of diagnostic spells to check Severus’s sanity, wondered aloud who will check hers, and finally addressed him with a direct question: “It does not make sense. How can he become invisible, that’s above NEWT level-”

“I don’t know how, do I? But he did, I swear he did!”

It was impossible. It had to be a dream. But then, had Severus punched and kneed _himself_ in his sleep? And how did Sirius know about Regulus? And why, why did James and Sirius always punish him for having someone on his side just as he had driven that person away? _And why did you think any good could come of associating with a Black? Why_ wouldn’t _Sirius’s fraternal instincts resurface if it’s an excuse to attack you? What did you expect, you idiot?_

Pomfrey fixed Severus right up, of course, as soon as she had calmed down enough to focus on her healing spells. He ran his tongue across his teeth and gave her a thumbs up.

He was discharged from the hospital wing for the third time that year, and soon discovered that having an invisible enemy was turning him into a nervous wreck _(even more of a nervous wreck than you’ve already been_ , his ever-helpful mind corrected him). He behaved like the complete opposite of his former self – he stayed in groups of people, as much as he could, and he could only feel remotely safe when Sirius was in his field of vision, which was definitely new. He tried to avoid staring at him, knowing that if he could turn invisible, no amount of staring could help. He did not notice Regulus staring at _him_.

When he was alone, every sound made him nearly curl up in a fetal position.

He constantly asked himself: How? How? How had he managed to render himself invisible, so perfectly invisible, when he was otherwise so astoundingly average? It took the likes of Dumbledore himself to do that. _Right, never mind that now – how do you defend against that_ – Severus could not think, only ruminate.

It was clear that he had finally gone insane. Sirius did not possess such power. _You have clearly developed some unheard of magical affliction of the mind. If Sirius knows about Reg, he must have seen you together and simply let it go on, which is impossible… Unless Reg told him? But why would he have, he hates him (Reg hates you too) (but it was not him who attacked you, he does not hate you that much yet)_. Severus concluded that the attack had to be a hallucination, and his relationship with Regulus was possibly a hallucination as well. There was only one reasonable course of action.

“Send me to St. Mungo’s,” he asked of Madam Pomfrey.

“Excuse me?” Madam Pomfrey asked, puzzled.

“I have gone mad, and I don’t know when it started. Send me to St. Mungo’s, they need to sort me.”

She sighed. “Why do you think that?”

“Nothing about this year makes any sense. Sirius could not have been here. Regulus could not have been in love with me, I’ve developed a fixation on that family, I must have, it’s the only-” he explained in nearly clinical detachment, convinced that he was making an irrefutable case.

“Stop. That is enough.”

Severus stopped.

“I try to stay out of the students’ personal lives, but you two have left me no choice. I do not know how Sirius managed to do what he did without getting caught, if it has indeed been him, but Regulus was here, every night, for two weeks, and he was in quite a state over you and what you have done to yourself. You did not hallucinate that.”

“Where is he now than?” he asked, trying not to shout.

“It is not my business to know, but he has been here.”

“Then I must be hallucinating this conversation,” Severus said, defiant.

Madam Pomfrey was exasperated. Philosophical debates with 16 year olds who refused to believe they were not insane were above her pay grade. “That’s enough,” she said in her most authoritative tone, and Severus’s demeanor suddenly changed from defiant to desperate, as he pleaded with her to “get me out of here, just get me out of here, I cannot stay in this place –” he’d almost been reduced to begging again, but Madam Pomfrey acquiesced.

“You can have one night. They’ll check you, and hopefully you will return with more respect for my diagnostic methods.”

Severus was relieved, hopeful. He was finally going to find out what was wrong with him, what was so wrong with him that he found himself so hopelessly and completely alone, time and time again.

All the while, Regulus stared at Severus trying not to stare at Sirius, and told himself that he would not apologize, he would not break, he would not blink first. If Severus could not see that it was unwise to provoke someone who was already willing to kill him for being an inconvenience, Regulus reckoned it was time to move on. That Severus did not seem to miss him at all did not help things.

To his dismay, Severus checked out of St. Mungo’s with confirmation that he was not suffering from any form of insanity known to wizardkind. The professional consensus was that he had indeed been attacked by an invisible Sirius Black.

He had to come to terms with the fact that his one advantage – superior skill – was gone. It was time to invent a new spell, to defend against invisible enemies, but how? And how was he going to test it? He wondered - will he live long enough to get to test it, at this rate?

He borrowed five books about disillusionment and shut himself in an empty room selected precisely for not being the one he and Regulus used to meet at - Sirius knew about that one. _If I can’t create a new spell, I might as well try to become invisible myself,_ he told himself. It quickly became apparent that the trick of it was manipulation of light. He would need a spell that worked on entire areas, like his Muffliato, and it could not be too obvious, or he would lose the element of surprise… He racked his brain, when the door creaked and opened, making a shadow across the room, followed by the three-dimensional figure of Regulus Black. Of course, before he could register who it was, Severus was already in a panic.

Regulus raised his hands in resignation. “What’s he done now?”

“WHERE IS HE?” Severus shouted at him.

“How would I know?”

“He might be here, Regulus, just go!”

“What are you talking about?”

Knowing full well how ridiculous he must appear, Severus zigged and zagged across the room in random-looking directions to shut the door.

“He can turn invisible, Sirius, and he knows about us, just leave me alone before he gets to you too!”

“Invisible? You’re joking, that’s-”

“I know it’s really advanced!”

Regulus had not seen Severus looking this deranged in a long time. This was clearly not the right time to break things off. He opened his mouth and shut it.

“I’m sorry, all right?” Severus said quietly. “I should not have Confunded him. I wanted to help you, like you’ve helped me, but I ruined everything. Just go,” Severus implored, and this was not out of fear or pride like it was in the dozens of times he had told Regulus to leave him alone before, this was something else, and Regulus could not break things off, although the irony of it had not escaped him.

“Are you going to tell me what happened? Or do you just want to show me?”

“Don’t talk about that! He might not know about that yet! Are you sure he's not here?” Severus warned him, sounding more and more hysterical.

“I doubt it, since you are in one piece,” Regulus interjected.

“Aren’t you listening? He knows about us, he called me a poof, he has seen us, I do not know what he knows!”

“He knows, and yet he did not do anything about it, and did not try to use it against me? And he is suddenly more powerful than Dumbledore? Sirius, who floo-ed himself into Knockturn Alley and almost touched a cursed necklace before we could find him when he was 10? _That_ Sirius? Are you saying he got powerful and patient enough that he would turn invisible, find out about us, and not bash our heads in, if he was here?”

“I know how it sounds. I thought of that. I am not crazy, I checked.”

The way Severus said it, it was almost as though he wished he was.

“Right, he can turn invisible,” Regulus relented, telling himself this was only for the sake of the argument. “How do you know?”

Severus cast Muffliato on the empty room, not knowing why, and told the story of the attack in the hospital wing.

“... And then I played dead for the rest of the night, and… you know the rest.”

Regulus was livid. “I am going to kill him.”

“Then this gang will kill you,” Severus reminded him. “Don’t do anything. I am working on a spell,” he continued, as if it was obvious.

“What do you mean, working on a spell?”

“Has he been sapping your brainpower? Is that what has been happening? It means I’m working on a spell,” Severus said, and when a look of comprehension failed to appear on Regulus’s face, he clarified: “to make it so I can see him.”

“You… You can make your own spells?” Regulus asked, incredulous.

“I’ve made a couple already, why?” Severus answered, taking no notice of Regulus’s disbelief.

“Well, do you know how rare that is?” Regulus inquired, more incredulous still.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“Excuse me?” Regulus was completely bewildered now.

“Muggle saying.”

Regulus was stunned, and Severus resumed pacing around the room and thinking about the spell.

“If I could know how he does it… It’s about light, not matter, all right then, light, light, light, Sirius, Black, black, dark, light – shadow!”

He quickly jotted something down.

Regulus looked more and more puzzled.

“He didn’t have a shadow!” Severus announced triumphantly.

“So?” Regulus wondered, still not comprehending.

“So, if I could make it so he does, I will know when he is there, I will know where he’s coming from!”

“But what difference does it make?”

“It doesn’t, really. But I cannot live like this, Regulus. I can’t worry about him when I don’t see him!”

“But his _shadow_ didn’t hit you, did it?” Regulus insisted. “If he is capable of doing that, what difference does it make if he has a shadow? What does it matter if you see him coming?”

“It means I could disarm or slow him down, something, anything-”

“You say you were asleep when he attacked you, you say you cried for help, you say it was about you and me, about us.”

“Yes.”

“So what difference does it make? You cannot not sleep, and you can’t get shot of me, so what does it matter if he’s got a bloody shadow?”

“That’s not the point, is it?” Severus shouted, shaking. “I know he will stop at nothing, did I not tell you that?”

Regulus was taken aback. “What is the point then?”

“The point is that I thought it was you, and if that’s not bad enough, I thought that it was me!”

“I would never do that to y- to anybody!”

“I did not mean it like that.”

“And what do you mean you thought it was you?”

Severus lost all patience with him. “It means,” he said, slowly at first, then faster and faster as he went, “I thought I’d gone mad, just like you thought, and I have not gone mad, they all insist that I am not mad, so that means I need to worry about being attacked out of thin air, and play dead instead of getting help, and if you cannot understand why I can’t live like that, I don’t know what else to say, and also, you keep forgetting that he knows about us!”

“All right, all right, I get it!”

Both of them appraised one another, tentatively.

“You are saying you’ve invented _several_ spells…”

“Will you leave it? Doesn’t everybody do it eventually?”

“Well, no…” Regulus said, careful. “I have lived among wizards my whole life, and I’ve never met anyone who can do that.”

“If you say so… but how will I test this one, I cannot make myself invisible.”

“Can you make other objects invisible?” Regulus asked, his first bright idea of the day, and a new charm was born: _Umbra revelo_. The book about disillusionment they had rendered invisible (both of them appreciated the humour) now cast a very peculiar shadow that was more of a reflection, and it was only visible to the caster.

That settled it for Regulus. Severus was never getting shot of him, regardless of what his brother had to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines to everyone! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! There's a lot more story that's already written but there's a time jump between the events of this chapter and the rest, so it might take a bit of time before you see another chapter! Hope it'll be worth the wait!


	11. Chapter 11

Regulus reached for the buttons on Severus’s trousers, and to his disturbing lack of surprise, yet another would-be tender moment turned into a farce. The sudden inhalation, Regulus could mistake for excitement for a second, but the tense shoulder suggested something else, as did Severus’s horrified expression and the way he touched his knees to his bare chest. This was not the unbridled lust Regulus had hoped for.

Regulus already knew to expect the worst and then some when it came to Severus’s stories, and his many unfathomable terrors always came with a secret, whether self-imposed or forced. This time, however, Regulus had a theory about what had caused this, yet he could not help but to feel, and to show, his frustration and his exasperation.

“I’m sorry,” Severus whispered. “It’s not you!”

“I want you so bad, it’s… don’t you want to?”

 _This is so easy for you, with your perfect body and the way it just does you tell it to,_ Severus thought. _The way you fly, the way nothing scares you._

There were pleasures in life that came for free, and Severus could never appreciate them while he had them, caught up, as he was, in things like clothes that were not his mother’s hand-me-downs, and broomsticks and cauldrons and school books from this decade. But James Potter had made sure to take those pleasures away too - the safety Hogwarts promised, walking around freely, not worrying about an attack, _not_ owing one’s life to a fiend (a more distasteful creditor, Severus could not imagine), _Lily._

Some of them barely counted as pleasures, but James had nevertheless made sure to teach Severus a lesson about their value as well - like brushing his teeth. The sensation of foam in his mouth invariably made him gag, each and every morning, each and every night, since the day James had decided to have that particular bit of fun with him, until he had learned to firmly fix his mind on something else while doing it. Another one was nudity, or rather - the choice of who will see. Before Regulus, Severus knew for near fact that his preferred option was “no one”, at least until he could get his hands on something to heal his blasted scars... But James Potter had his own ideas. It was only thanks to the fact that it was at the end of their 5th year that people had had enough time to forget about… _that._ But Severus did not, could not - every shower had been an ordeal. He had only recently started to get over it.

 _Shit. Regulus asked you something, remember, dunderhead?_ He looked at Regulus, who was full of anticipation, almost as innocent as it was lustful… _how I wish I could never think of Potter again._

“I do, I really do!” Severus swore,and he did. He desperately wanted to be free, and to touch Regulus like he knew Regulus deserved to be touched, and to be touched by him like he suspected he might deserve to be touched, too, and to feel like everybody else did, and he knew Regulus was a treasure, and that no one else he knew even approached his curiosity, his courage and compassion - _not when it comes to you, anyway, Snivelly_ \- he wanted him to be the first to see, but it was already too late before they’d ever noticed one another.

_Potter probably never thought about it again after, and here you are, still letting it infect everything. Pathetic._

“What is it, then?” Regulus asked him. Severus told himself: _He learned Legilimency for you. He believed you. He never hurt you on purpose._

“You’ll laugh at me,” Severus answered, and it sounded so shamefully childish when he’d said it out loud. And yet, was he wrong? They all had, they’d all laughed. They’d witnessed his torment and thought it was funny. Surely, he was not like them, he was not human.

“I have never laughed at you and I know too much to assume whatever you’ve got to say is going to be amusing,” a weary Regulus informed him.

_Why would somebody like him want to be near me?_

“I can’t believe you’re still here, Reg,” Severus said without thinking. “I want… I want you, it’s only… it’s… hard.”

Regulus smiled despite himself. “I should hope so, you know…” he said.

“Oh, ha ha. You’re a real gentleman, you know that?”

“Oh, I am? What else am I?” He teased.

“Thick-headed. Obviously insane. Not that great a flier. Unhealthily attached to your elf. Inbred. An entitled hothead. Have I mentioned that you are thick-headed?”

Regulus smiled from ear to ear. Whatever Severus was feeling, it could not be so bad if he had the presence of mind to mock him.

“Not as thick as you,” he retorted. “And even you couldn’t make a spell to make a decent flier out of you.”

“Were you there, Reg?” Severus asked him, and he looked away before Regulus could answer… a buzzing filled his ears as if he had cast Muffliato on himself somehow, and he felt his temples pounding. He could not remember if Regulus had been there or not. The laughing faces had all become melded in his mind, they merged into a single being with many heads… he was not sure what he wanted the answer to be. _If he was there when they’d done this to me, and he laughed, how could I look at him? If he wasn’t, then he doesn’t know… he doesn’t know what I am, he will realize, he will leave._

Regulus sighed.

“No, but I heard what had happened.”

Severus made a swallowing sound, though his mouth was dry. He picked at a piece of parchment on the floor. He felt Regulus looking at him, and he wanted to disappear.

“I don’t know what I would have done. I didn’t know you then. But I generally don’t find Sirius amusing, or Potter. I don’t know if I’d have stopped them, Severus, but I wouldn’t have laughed at you.”

Severus said nothing. His head was buried in the crook of his arm.

As Regulus tried to touch him, he actually began to hyperventilate, and even as he lost all control of himself, his mind told him to stop faking, to be a man, that he was only acting this way for attention… and Regulus was scared and confused.

“Do you remember the first time I came here?” He asked Severus.

Severus could not say that he did, nor understand why it was relevant.

“No, why?” He managed to ask.

“I saw you crying, remember? And you flinched. And I told you I’m not my brother and there’s no need to flinch away from me.”

Severus looked up. It was true, that did happen. Of course, how could he forget? But he had just lost Lily that day, and Regulus was nothing to him then, just another Black...

“I only heard what happened after that. I thought you’ve been crying because you’ve failed your tests. But you beat Sirius at every test, I know this for a fact. He was in a fit about it when we had the examiners over at our house. Even after what they did to you.”

A pause followed. Severus’s body relaxed a little…

“My point is I never found him funny. I find him pathetic. And Potter. I didn’t need to know you to know what they are.”

There was the crooked closed-mouth smile that Regulus adored. There was that rare look of someone whose agony had been lifted.

They would have to get through this one day. _One day… but not today_. That day, they only sat in their dungeon, Regulus leaning against the wall and Severus leaning on him, and each read his respective book, and occasionally kissed the other, occasionally even more than that. Both of them remembered - there used to be a time when a bare chest was unthinkable - now it was obvious. _It will be okay,_ Regulus thought. _One day, you’ll manage it,_ Severus told himself. _If only Reg will wait long enough… but he will. He must._

The hurt had been strong, sometimes engulfing, overpowering, omnipresent. But beneath the hurt, there was something else - _finally, something else_ \- not even James Potter could take away Severus Snape’s ability to love. No one could. To do that, they’d have to kill him, and he was not falling for any of their tricks again. He was alive, despite Sirius, despite himself, and just because he owed his life to Potter did not mean Potter could dictate whom he’ll love and how, forever. He knew, with time, he’ll be able to fight against the hurt, to love and be loved. He did not know how, but for the first time he knew for certain that he would.


	12. Chapter 12

Severus was startled by a knock on his bedroom window. It was an owl, carrying a package. _There really is a first time for everything_ , he thought, and let the regal bird inside. It placed the package on his bed and waited. Severus looked at it, not knowing what to do. He offered it some water. He offered it some bread. Eventually, he parted with a knut with a heavy heart. He was soon extremely ashamed of the meager tip, because the package was heavy, and it came from far away.

It was a beautifully ornamented platinum cauldron, encrusted with emeralds. Severus held it with both hands, placed it gingerly on his desk, and traced his index finger over its rim. He had read about those, but he had never even seen, let alone touched, one; Lucius had arranged for him to apprentice under his father for the past two summers, but even there, he had never seen such perfection. Mr. Malfoy must have had a platinum cauldron, but surely, he kept it somewhere Severus could not find it - and now Severus had one. Inside the cauldron, lay a note:

“Mon cher Severus, as they say here, I am sorry I could not write sooner. Now that it is only my parents and I, it is harder to get away. The dog used to keep them busy on our family vacations, and now they hardly let me leave their sight. I managed to wander off on my own to a great little street here (in Paris, if you have not guessed it), and found a shop that specializes in cauldrons. I picked Slytherin colors, naturally. The school here does not have houses, it turns out. I hope you like it. I also got some books about French _magie_. I can’t write much more because they must be expecting me back already, wish you could be here, away from the Muggles.

Wishing you a Happy Easter,

Reg”

A platinum cauldron from Paris… _mine_. He picked it up. It was heavier than it looked, but it fit in his hands perfectly. There were potions that required it, and he knew that even the ones he had already made will turn out better, if brewed in this masterpiece. The bottom was engraved: “To Severus, from Regulus”. So simple and so perfect, and it was his. If it stung a little that Regulus was in Paris, complaining about his parents paying too much attention to him, and he was in Spinner’s End listening to the Muggle’s drunken rant about the latest match between Man U and Liverpool FC, he did not let it affect him as he held the precious gift and examined it from every angle, wishing he could do the same to who gave it to him. He missed Regulus from the moment they’d parted, and he realized that even in what must have been the enchanted streets of Wizarding Paris, Regulus was thinking of him. There was only one problem - he now owed Regulus a present, and he had no idea what he would get him or how he would pay for it.

Holding the beautiful cauldron, staring at it, already seeing it bubbling with all manner of intoxicating potions, Severus could not help but to feel a hint of panic.

He was sure the cauldron was worth more than the house it found itself in, and Regulus had just bought it and given it to him. How was he ever going to reciprocate? The weight of their inequality suffocated him.

Regulus Black had now saved his life, liberated his secret, and casually given him the cauldron. _What have I given him? What do I have to give, except trouble and heartache?_ Then, it hit him: He did have something, and it was apparently special. He would create a spell, something just for him, only for his lovely, graceful, determined, curious, Quidditch-loving Regulus.

_Gratia felinae._

***

When Regulus found out Severus had made a spell for him, he was so happy it nearly scared him.

They sneaked out to practice it together in the dead of night, at the top of the astronomy tower. “If you don’t right yourself, I’ll levitate you before you hit the ground. Jump.”

“Levitate me? How?”

“You can’t be serious. You’ve heard of Levicorpus, I’m sure?” Severus asked, bitter irony in his voice.

“Alright then,” Regulus said, but he could not jump. “You’re going to have to push me, Severus.”

And push, Severus did. They had to try a few times before Regulus got it right, but eventually, he landed on his feet, completely safe if not entirely graceful, and he beamed with excitement. “I can see better in the dark now too, is it meant to do that?” He asked. Severus thought a little and answered - “I didn’t plan for it to, but it makes sense that it would.”

Giddy, Regulus proclaimed: “It’s perfect. It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Don’t tell anyone!”

“Never!”

They walked hand in hand, back to the castle, and Regulus described the effects of the spell in marvelous detail. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time. I can see better. I can hear better. I can smell everything. I can tell there’s some animal moving in the bushes.” Severus listened to him as he went on, and smiled.

Rather than go to their respective dorms, they went to their dungeon. _Cats are nocturnal, so of course he isn’t tired_ , Severus smiled to himself, and cast _Umbra revelo_.

To be able to give something to the one who had everything was intoxicating. Regulus was overjoyed, and so thrilled, he reminded Severus of the way Lily was when she had finally accepted that she was a witch. The kind of happiness that (he used to think) would cement people together forever. He banished her from his mind.

New realms of magic opened up to Regulus. “How do you do it? You have to tell me.”

“I don’t know, Reg! I always figured it was a question of imagination, but if you say it isn’t, then it’s not!”

“This is amazing,” Regulus whispered. “You’re amazing.”

Severus only smiled.

“I mean it, you know… not just because of the spells.”

Severus let out a skeptical "hmph,” despite himself.

“I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“That’s because you’ve only ever met other degenerate purebloods like yourself,” Severus said faux-helpfully.

“Very funny. No, stop it. I somehow doubt that the Muggles are like you, and no one else at this school is like you. You’re the most unusual wizard I know. And everyone else has been boring me to death since I met you.”

Unusual was a nice way to put it… but Regulus was not wrong. “Lily used to be different, you know,” he said, and the hurt across Reg’s face told him that this was not what he had hoped to hear. “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean it like you’re like everybody else,” he said. With difficulty, he added: “You know you aren’t.”

“I think so sometimes… if I hadn’t been a Black, what would I have been… you know?”

 _Don’t remind me,_ Severus thought. _If I hadn’t been a Snape, what would I have been? We’re just who we are._ But he looked at Regulus and he knew he was wrong, he knew he was demonstrating lack of imagination. And it didn’t matter, anyway.

“You’re Regulus,” he said simply.

“Yeah,” Regulus sighed. “And?”

“And to be honest, I try to not think of you as a Black, so… that’s it. You’re Regulus. And you’re not like everybody else. You’re… you…”

Compliments never came easy to Severus. He wished he had some Veritaserum now, so that he could speak without defaulting to sarcasm. Regulus eyed him with thinly-veiled anticipation. _You saved my life, you read my mind, you are here with me when you could be with anyone else, you chose me when I’ve been nothing but trouble, you’re the only one since Lily who has even tried to understand… how can you not see that?!_ But all he could say, all he could think to say, was: “You’re the opposite of your brother.” It would have to do.

“Excellent,” Regulus mumbled. “I’d hoped you’d compare me to him again.”

“I didn’t say you were better than him. I said you were the opposite.”

“Right.”

 _He can come up with spells but he can’t give me a compliment?_ Regulus thought.

“Look, I-” Severus struggled to speak. _Just say it, it’s not like Dumbledore’s silenced you now!_ And yet, Snapes simply did not give compliments. _But then, if a Black could break the mould…_ and they had already come so far… _it would just take a moment of courage._

“You’re a great wizard, and you’re beautiful, and you’re a kind person, possibly the only one here, and I’m not alone when I’m with you, and you’re-” he ran out of air.

 _Why does everything have to be a problem with you? You will scare him off._ His face was flushed and he was hot.

Regulus whispered: “Severus.” Severus’s mind screamed: _He’s going to leave. It’s not good enough. He’s going to leave._ His mouth was dry, again.

“I love you,” Regulus said. They hadn’t said it since that night in the hospital wing.

“I love you.”

At that moment, Severus felt it - the opposite of the abject humiliation he felt before, at Potter’s hands, that he has been feeling ever since. Regulus was not only the opposite of Sirius, he was the opposite of Potter, too, and Severus could recover, he could be seen, he could be loved, he could do anything.

It turned out that all it took for Severus to be able to trust Regulus was for Regulus to let him repeatedly push him off the roof of the tallest tower.

That’s how they found out: the opposite of humiliation was not honour. It was intimacy. It was not in hiding, it was in showing oneself. They were not a Black and a Snape, they were Regulus and Severus, and they were ready for the next step, even if it was a step off the roof of the tower. They knew they would land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed the sweet moment. I'm feeling a little down today so I wanted to do something nice for my characters. As always, looking forward to your thoughts. I was a bit surprised to read that people are ambivalent about Regulus and I wonder why that is! Thank you for reading! P.S. thank you to "the Witch", you know who you are, for your help with the Latin and in general! This fic wouldn't have been the same without you!


	13. Chapter 13

Lily's mood got worse the closer the Express got to London. She tried to enjoy the last hours on the train, but it got harder and harder to deny the unwelcoming prospect she was facing - another summer, alone. Summers had been the worst part of being Muggle-born. She _knew_ everybody else got to do magic over the summer all the time, she _knew_ they all got to meet at Diagon Alley using Floo Powder or side-along apparition, and they weren't cut off from the world for two months just because their parents weren't magic. As for Lily's Muggle friends, her parents had told everyone Lily got accepted into some posh boarding school, and when she had returned that first summer with absolutely no knowledge of the latest records or films and having learned nothing about any Muggle subject, she had to stop being friends with them. They all thought she was stuck-up now, anyway. It was dreadful. But at least she had had Severus. At least they could wander the Moors and talk for hours and gossip about the Slytherins and the Gryffindors without feeling pressured to be loyal to their housemates. At least she had not been alone with Petunia. It used to be that she was never alone when she was with him - not just because they were both magic - they were both what Slughorn called “cheeky” and they were both rather cleverer than average, and they both loved reading and spending time in the woods... Her friends had never understood how she could hang around a Slytherin, and this Slytherin of all of them, and she defended him, she said they didn't know him like she does, that he was alright, really, not like the others, and that he doesn't have anything against Muggle-borns, he's friends with her, isn't he, and so on and so on. But in their fifth year, he had really made it hard - acting like something was about to attack him all the time and lecturing her about Potter like she had needed him to tell her he was up to no good. He kept going on about how they were all disappearing all the time, probably doing illegal magic... and then he called what Mulciber's done to Mary a laugh. It was so unlike him and so hypocritical it made her head spin. It wasn't the same. He was _weird,_ and he was hanging around vile people all of a sudden, and he was definitely lying to her about something. People had started to complain that he called them mudbloods, but she did not believe it. Sev? Her Sev? She’d tried. She really did. She had even tried to help him out, and how did he pay her? By proving to her that her friends had been right all along. It was exactly what she had always feared, that others will judge her for being Muggle-born, and he knew it, _he knew it_ , and he said it anyway.

Last summer had been a nightmare. She was not hopeful as she got off the train, saw her parents waving and Petunia sulking. “Why do we have to come all the way here just to go back up?” She complained. Not even a hello. Lily's heart sunk. Two months of this. Two months of Petunia's mockery and avoiding the places she used to love because she couldn't face him. _Let him go on and become a Death Eater if he wants, all the other Slytherins are queueing up, aren't they?_ Dumbledore had already spoken to her in private about the Order. She knew how she would put her talent to use. All she had to do was endure two months.

It was a glorious day when an owl had surprised her (she woke up to Petunia screaming in terror from it). The note had read:

“Now that we can all Apparate we can all meet over the summer. I'm throwing a party. Gryffindors only, so don't worry about anybody calling you names. Just Apparate to the coolest house in Godric's Hollow and we'll all be there. Your favourite Seeker.”

She could feel the arrogance radiating all the way from Godric's Hollow to Cokeworth. But he had a point - she had passed her Apparition test, she could go anywhere! Part of her told her that if she'd been a _real_ witch she'd have thought of that herself, and another part of her told her she was a real witch, it was not her fault she'd only got to do or see magic at Hogwarts where Apparition was impossible. She was dying of boredom and frustration. She'd read her books for the next year twice, she’d caught up on all the newspaper clippings her parents had kept for her, there was just nothing to do! She decided to go.

James couldn't believe his luck when Lily actually showed up. He had always known she would warm up to him one day. He was surprised that it took so long even after she'd stopped hanging around Snivellus, but the day had finally come. He could tell she was impressed with his house even if she still didn't admit she liked him. But she did, and he knew it. And he knew she knew it.

***

 _One more year... one more year and I'll be out of here,_ Severus told himself as he boarded the Express with a heavy heart for the last time. He'd told himself the same thing last year too, and twice he nearly died. He hoped against hope that it would be different somehow, this time - but two things stood out. First, it was the last year, no matter what. Second, he had Regulus - he would finally see him again. Summer had been as long as it was depressing, a dull, lonely affair, but at least he'd heard that Reg'd earned five Os, and he was proud of him. He remembered how he had threatened Regulus that he had to get at least four - “anything less than twice as good as Sirius and you might as well get all Ts”, he had told him. Well - he got five Os, two Es, and two A's - that was definitely much better than Sirius had done. As he looked for a compartment to sit in he walked past Lily, and they exchanged glances for less than a second. She hadn't tried to meet with him all summer, even though they were the only witch and wizard in a 100-kilometer radius, it felt like... how could this still hurt? He wished he could just sit with Regulus, but he knew they had to keep their love a secret - nothing good could come of telling anyone about it. They did not even need to discuss it to know that it was a secret.

_One more year. Just focus on your NEWTs._

***

Sirius had himself disowned when he had left 12 Grimmauld Place for the last time, to go live with the Potters. It occurred to him now for the first time that this might present a problem for him - that he might need some money to his name in Gringotts to live once he got out of Hogwarts. Then, his uncle Alphard died, and left him a very nice bit of gold. _Look at that,_ he told himself. _Sometimes good things happen to good people._ He would be able to join the Order with James, and he would not need to worry about anything. The icing on the cake was that he was sure his parents were shaking with fury about this - but there was not a damn thing they could do about it.

***

“I have no idea what I'll do with myself when I graduate,” Severus complained. “Or where I'll live. It feels like I'll be working for the Malfoys forever, sometimes.”

“I wouldn't worry about that,” Regulus said. “My inheritance recently doubled in size. I'm sure I'll get mum and dad to buy me a flat.”

 _Doubled?_ There was clearly a lot Severus didn't understand about the magic of money.

“How did you manage that?!” He asked. “Did you invest in anything, or...?”

Regulus always enjoyed the rare moments when he got to be the clever one.

“Well, I used to have a brother, you see, but I don't anymore, so my inheritance has doubled. And since my erstwhile brother got a flat, I don't think mum and dad will be able to live with themselves if he has something I don't have.”

All of this was very nice for Regulus, but Severus wondered: _What does it have to do with me?_

“And you'll live with me. Wasn't that obvious?”

Severus was stunned...

“I'll still be here most of the time anyway,” Regulus said and his voice sounded distant, even though he was right there. There are people who just get flats? _And you are one of them._ No more Spinner's End? Has he really seen the last of that Muggle slum? Regulus seemed not to notice any of this, as he returned to his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“I wouldn't try for a job at the Ministry, though. They are running out of time over there, those clowns. The Dark Lord will take over... two ministers now, and no one has stopped him, can you believe that?” He monologued. “They're all expecting Dumbledore to save them,” he said, emphasizing Dumbledore's name. Both of them rolled their eyes. They knew exactly how Dumbledore protected people.

***

James and Lily finally started seeing each other, officially. He showered her with gifts, and he made her feel like she was the most special girl in the world. She needed this after the summer she had - ever since she'd lost her friend, she'd been lonely. _You don't make new childhood friends_ , she told herself ruefully. But he'd made his choices, and there was no denying her life had gotten much easier without having to explain why they were still friends all the time. Even so, her heart tugged a little as she was sitting on James's bed, his head on her lap, and they all shared the jokes they'd accumulated over the years, their own secrets, their own lives. Sirius kept staring at a piece of parchment, so angry his brows nearly became conjoined. They still refused to explain to her what that piece of parchment meant.

“What is it?” She asked Sirius.

“Just my former brother,” he muttered. “Disgusting... let's see how dear mum and dad like that, what a total idiot, I wish I could punch some brains into his head.”

“What did he do?”

“Never mind that, Evans. It doesn't matter, he's only a Dark Arts-loving imbecile like the rest of his house. And my family, of course.”

“Oh, stop it. Not all Slytherins are like that,” she said, almost as a reflex. The other four exchanged questioning looks. She changed the subject immediately. “And I'm sure your family is not all bad!” She added, attempting to make Sirius feel better.

“No, they are,” he corrected her wearily. “Let's say they wouldn't step up in your defence. So there is no reason why you should try to defend them.”

“If you say so...”

“What do you mean about the Slytherins?” James asked her. “As far as I'm concerned, they can all -”

“Nothing! It's just -” Lily did some very quick thinking. “Slughorn's always been nice enough, hasn't he?”

“Oh, big deal,” Peter chimed in. “You're his Potions star, of course you'd say that. He barely learned my name in five years. Or Moony's.”

A sad smile flitted across Lily's face.

“Don't be sad because people here don't appreciate you,” James told her. He did know how to make her feel good...

When she had gone to her dorm, Sirius and James did not need to discuss it to know that Snivellus was overdue for a night in the hospital wing.

***

“This is for you, Lily Evans!” James Potter shouted as he soared for the Snitch, his broomstick nearly vertical, his arm stretched out so high up he nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Regulus flew faster and higher, and when he was shoulder to shoulder with James, he took both hands off the broomstick, held it only with his legs, and reached with both hands for the Snitch as the crowd went silent, and even Sirius stopped talking.

It was not a very sunny day, but looking so high up made it impossible for everyone to see what was happening without squinting. Surely, the two seekers had to be straining their eyes to see the tiny golden Snitch, as well.

Regulus’s broomstick slipped from between his legs and both broomstick and former rider started falling - surely, he was going to die as soon as he hit the ground, falling from that height.

Everybody stared, frozen, even James, as Regulus plummeted. James, who had become such an accomplished caster of Levicorpus, did not use it now, nor did anybody else. The crowd watched helplessly, as Regulus twisted mid-air, as the referee conjured a mattress at the last possible minute, and as Regulus landed on his feet and collapsed on the ground with his knees, his right hand making a fist. He hit the mattress forcefully, and he did not get up, but merely raised his hand in the air to signal that he was alive, conscious, and victorious - the Golden Snitch sparkled and fluttered in his hand, trapped under his thumb. James Potter landed next to him and shook his head in disbelief.

Severus watched James walk toward Lily with his head down, watched her wrap her arm around his slumped shoulder and him shake it off and sulk, and he watched the referee holding his hand out for Regulus to take and stand up. Regulus stood up gingerly and he was fine, he was fine, he had done it - just as Severus knew he would. He alone was not worried. Finally, the Slytherins, as a collective, let out a deafening roar of applause. _Hope you like your present, Reg,_ Severus thought, smirking to himself and struggling to contain his insuppressable delight.

***

Weeks had turned into months, and the months came and went. Severus’s resentment remained constant, however. Potter, on top of being named Quidditch captain, was named Head Boy, and Severus was positive that this was intended to lend credibility to the farcical idea that James had saved him out of heroism. Otherwise, it made absolutely no sense - Potter had always behaved as though obeying the rules was a character flaw. Potter played the part convincingly enough when it came to everyone else, but he still found the time, between school work, Quidditch, and performing his head boy duties, to attack Severus. Worst of all, Potter’s charm offensive had finally wore Lily down. It felt like he was twisting the knife, like both of them were. That feeling, that he was nothing, that he never mattered, felt like a boot stomping on his heart. Even that did not stop Potter from the occasional hex, even if he did make an effort to conceal it.

 _He already has Lily, what the fuck does he want from me?_ Severus asked himself, to no avail. 

He did not know that these attacks were not random. He did not know that they always followed something Lily had said that made James suspicious. She did not even have to speak - he knew what she was thinking of, when somebody would bring him up, and she would suddenly change the subject or even find an excuse to leave the room. The idea that Lily missed her former best friend was unbearable to James - he had stopped hexing people, had he not? He could have had any girl he wanted, but he had chosen her, and _he_ did not call her a mudblood, so what more could she want from him? Why could she not just forget about Snivellus? _I have loved her since our first year, why does she not love me like I love her?_ He did not share his anger and confusion with her, of course. That was between him and the overgrown bat. _That overgrown bat will pay,_ James told himself, every time. He could always rely on his friends, at least - especially Sirius. Sirius knew exactly what Snivellus was - a greasy, slimy, oily, Dark Arts loving snake, Lucius Malfoy’s little pet, who had the nerve to go after Sirius’s brother. If it felt sometimes like the cloak didn’t work on with him as well as it did on everybody else, that only proved what they already knew - he was up to his eyeballs in the Dark Arts and he deserved every bit of punishment he got.

***

Graduation loomed large. Severus closed the door behind him as he left Slughorn’s office after yet another disappointing meeting with his Head of House. He had always felt as though Slughorn was a bit embarrassed that the half-blood from Spinner’s End had been sorted into his house, that he took some perverse pride in Slytherin only having members of the old magic families, and that people with the last name Snape had ruined it.

“You’re a fine wizard, Snape,” Slughorn had pronounced him, “I assume you are here to ask me for a reference for a future job.”

 _I’m here because I have to be here_ , Severus thought.

“I would have been happy to give you a reference, but I cannot do it in good faith. You must learn to work with people, you have to learn how to network, how to present yourself, or you will never be as successful as you can be. Do you understand?”

It was rich, coming from Slughorn. He had the decency to invite the top brewer of the year to his little club once, or twice, maybe three times, but he stuck out like a sore thumb at these gatherings, with nothing to add to the conversation about whose father-in-law had worked with whose uncle, twice removed, and his refusal to be impressed with the fact that rich purebloods knew other rich purebloods. When Slughorn had taken the Gryffindors’ side, just to make life easier for himself, after what Sirius had done to him, it was all the proof Severus had needed: people with the last name Snape were a nuisance to Slughorn. It was the final nail in the coffin when Severus had lost Lily - he was not going to make an effort to enter into any room that had her in it, just so he would get to watch Slughorn fawn over the brilliant Muggle-born of Gryffindor (who, as a Gryffindor, was given clemency for the crime of not coming from noble stock), and avoid meeting her eye.

Obtuse as Slughorn was, it was sound advice. He knew he was guaranteed a job at the Malfoy apothecary, he knew the value of Slughorn’s Ministry connections was about to drop significantly, and he knew the House of Black had produced one person who appreciated his talent. As he walked down the hallway, away from Slughorn’s office, he resolved to prove him wrong.

***

The NEWTs had come and gone. Severus’s time at Hogwarts was finally coming to an end. He did not have a concrete plan, but he had a place to live, and he would share it with Regulus for two glorious months before Regulus would have to return to school. As they sat on the floor in their dungeon for the last time, it struck Severus that by some miracle he had managed to find something about this place he would miss. In this room, Regulus had noticed him for the first time. In this room, he had read Severus’s mind and broken the silencing charm. Here, he and Regulus Black were equals. In this room, he belonged, he was loved, he could be brave, and he could love with impunity, no matter what James, Sirius, or even Dumbledore himself had to say about it.

Suddenly, Regulus said: “I wish I didn’t have to return next year.”

Both of them knew very clearly that Regulus would have to return.

“I’m really going to miss you when you’re not here. I might die of boredom.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to not spending so many nights in the hospital wing with me. Just don’t forget me next year, will you?”

Regulus smiled.

“Maybe I will forget you. Maybe I’ll meet another wizard who survived a werewolf and can make his own spells.”

For the hundredth time, Severus tallied up how much trouble he had caused Regulus, and how many times Regulus had insisted on staying by his side, on fighting for the truth. Tears filled his eyes again, but it was so different, so different than that first time.

“Thank you, Reg. For everything.”

Regulus suddenly thought back to who he was less than two years ago. The Regulus who had walked into that very room to find Severus crying had been insufferably naive, ignorant, unremarkable, and well on his way to becoming yet another self-satisfied Black and accomplishing nothing. Now he knew he would never be the same, and he had Severus to thank for it - everyone else had always let him get by on his family name alone, but only Severus knew who Regulus really was, and only he had ever challenged him.

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way”, Regulus announced, and he was certain and confident as only he could be.


	14. Chapter 14

Summer vacation between Regulus’s 6th year and 7th year 

Regulus had come to a decision, and his decision was to result in him experiencing the feeling his brother knew so well - parental disappointment and disapproval.

Walburga and Orion managed to be polite enough, at first. It might have been denial, or it might have been the fact that the half-blood Regulus had brought to their home had already spent several summers apprenticing under Abraxas Malfoy, and so they felt like they had to try harder than they otherwise would have. They said nothing about his robes, or about where he had hailed from, or about his parentage. Regulus only started to worry when he realized his mother had been eyeing the tapestry of the Black Family Tree every other minute.

“Regulus, dear, will you help me in the kitchen?” She beckoned. She had not set foot in the kitchen in a very long time.

“What is the nature of your relationship with our… guest?” She inquired.

“He is my friend, that is all,” Regulus said, knowing how very unconvincing he sounded.

“You have never brought a friend here before, Regulus. Do not lie to your mother.”

He was not used to disappointing his parents, and he was not accomplished at lying to them. He said nothing. “You have spent a lot of money on that friend,” she insinuated. _She knew about that?_

Mother had caught Regulus off guard, and all he could think to do was to deny everything and return to the dining room. His furious mother followed him.

Orion excused himself - he always did when his wife had _that_ look - but this was the first time it was his second-born who had caused it.

“Regulus Arcturus _Black_ , you are behaving like a common wizard. You have responsibilities to your kind, are you forgetting that?” She started.

Severus was confused - what on earth was she talking about?

“I have not forgotten, Mother,” Regulus said softly, with his eyes cast down.

“We have already been disgraced once, Regulus. We will not be disgraced by you as well.”

 _Disgraced?_ The word echoed in Severus’s mind.

When she felt she had her son good and frightened, she continued: “Believe me, I understand you. Hogwarts is a boarding school, and it is natural to have _urges_ ," she said, looking at Severus with thinly-veiled disgust. “Your father certainly had proclivities.”

Severus’s heart started to thump, shame mixed with rage stirred deep in his belly, as the woman who inflicted Sirius Black upon the world dared to continue speaking. “I understand that you have a certain - ah - fascination with his sort. But when the time comes to settle down, and it will come soon, you are expected to let go of this childish fantasy and marry someone of your background. Do you understand?”

_Proclivities. Childish fantasy. Urges._

Regulus sat in stunned silence. Sirius was turning out to be more vital to a healthy family life than anyone would have anticipated. Severus was too stung to see that Regulus was not quiet because he accepted his mother’s judgement, but because he was too shocked. “Don’t worry,” Severus hissed. “I have no interest in being a Black’s plaything.” Again, he wondered why he ever volunteered to have anything to do with that family. “And your other son is much more disgraceful than you know, pure as his blood may be. Goodbye,” he said, stood up, pushed his chair back and left.

Regulus only snapped out of his shock when he heard the door slam shut. “What are you talking about?” He asked, earnestly. “He is twice the wizard I am, four times the wizard Sirius is, he does things no one else can do.”

“Do not talk about the shame of my flesh, Regulus!” She yelled. It was frightening. “Running around with the blood traitor Potter, cozying up to your crackpot headmaster! Are you taking after him?”

Regulus tried in vain to reason with her. “Don’t make me laugh, he is a joke, if you knew the company he keeps!”

“Sirius did not bring mongrels from the Moors into the house of my fathers!” She shrieked.

“Aren’t you listening to me? This mongrel is the most powerful wizard I’ve met, even the Malfoys see that, why can’t you?”

She suddenly softened. “It is not about magical power, Regulus. Have we not raised you better than that? People like him can yield great power, and they can certainly work for us - but the Black name-”

“What about it?!”

“Toujour pur, Regulus, or have you forgotten?”

 _Children. She is talking about children._ “You’re joking,” Regulus mumbled in disbelief. “He and I could not make half-blood children with all the magic in the world. The Dark Lord could not do that.”

She looked at the tapestry, furious. Sirius and Andromeda had already been burned off; only Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Regulus were still on it.

“Why can’t you be more like Bellatrix?” She shouted. “She married Rodolphus LeStrange, just like her parents had always planned for her! Your father and I never imagined we would have to make arrangements for you!”

Regulus started laughing. “Dolph is an idiot, they’ve been married for four years and have not made a single pureblood child, are you barking?”

“Only because they have dedicated themselves to fighting for the Dark Lord!”

“So power is more important than making pureblood children when it’s Bellatrix and Dolph? Dolph, who is so thick his parents had to buy Hogwarts a new wing so he would pass his second year? Do you know they all called him Rodoltus LeStrange in our dorms?”

“The LeStranges are a respectable wizarding family, they are noble stock! Marriage is about power and tradition, Regulus, not night-time romps with mangy, grubby, no name half-bloods who only want your money!” She screamed, a vein in her neck threatening to burst.

Regulus found himself shouting back. “He is NOT a mangy, grubby half blood who only wants my money!”

A crystal goblet shattered in an unbecoming fit of accidental magic.

“He is the best wizard at the school, I love him, and I am lucky I know him!” He roared, and he realized that at some point in his speech, he stood up without noticing and buried his fist in the oak table. Walburga approached him, looking menacing although she was shorter than him, and slapped her second-oldest son for the first time. Severus, who'd been waiting outside, hoping for Regulus to come after him, stormed back inside. He had never loved Regulus more. And she had hurt him.

Regulus’s hand was on his burning cheek and his eyes glistened.

“The next time you see me, the Dark Lord will have given me the Dark Mark, and we shall see if mongrels from the Moors only want your precious money,” he said in a near-whisper.

“The Dark Lord marking a half-blood?!” She cried out, scandalized at the very thought. “May I drop dead on the spot!”

 _The woman who birthed Sirius and slapped Regulus?_ Severus welcomed the prospect of her dying on the spot, very much.

“I will be back, with the Mark, and I will not bother you or your _money_ until then,” he promised her. “But if you ever lay a hand on him again, you will never forget it.” With those words, he left without looking back, slamming the door shut behind him without using his hands or his wand.

***

Walburga allowed herself to feel relieved. Her problem had solved itself - the half-blood had left, and he was not coming back without the Mark, meaning he was unlikely to ever come back, unless, of course, he was not true to his word… but that was a problem for another day, and she hoped some time apart would help Regulus return to his senses before he made a mistake he could not take back. She had a son to think about, and pleased as she was - he was clearly hurt.

Kreacher always took to Regulus, and he always knew how to calm him down when he cried, as a child, as he witnessed his parents’ increasingly desperate attempts to mould their eldest into a respectable wizard. She summoned him, and the house elf bowed. “Make Regulus a cup of tea, please,” she ordered.

“Kreacher is happy to make tea for young Master Regulus!” The elf announced, and left promptly to fulfill the request.

Regulus appeared ashamed of himself. It was painful, but necessary. The future of the Black legacy rested on his shoulders - he had to learn, and the sooner the better, his mother felt. Her son, more handsome by the day, destined to marry well and bring honour to his house, sat very stiffly at the table, his eyes fixed on the floor, both cheeks red but one more so than the other. He seemed lost in thought. _Good,_ she told herself. _He has not lost every ounce of sense yet like the rotten fruit of the family tree._

Kreacher returned with the tea, made just as Regulus liked it. “Thank you, Kreacher,” he whispered softly.

“I hope that is the last we have seen of your _friend_. To be perfectly sincere, I am glad, Regulus; you have been spared more pain. You will thank me, soon, when you will have decided to marry a respectable witch and let go of youthful indiscretions. That display was pitiful, wasn’t it? Shouting at his hosts, bursting out in the middle of the dinner, listening at the door, telling me how to raise my child, deluding himself into believing that he might be fit to bear the Mark. He is not without talent, but he will never advance beyond being the Malfoys’ apprentice with manners like these!”

Regulus’s mind was swimming. He knew his parents would not approve of his choice of partner - but he did not expect to reveal it just yet. Once more, he cursed himself for his stupidity - of course they kept track of his vault. Of course they realized that if he brought anybody home, that person was important. All he wanted was for them to get to know him before making their decision - he was sure, positive, absolutely convinced, that if they had known what he could do, they would have accepted him. But he was wrong, and Severus was gone until further notice. Regulus knew him well enough to know he would not come back without the Mark, and he had no idea what it took to earn it, or indeed, if half-bloods could earn it. His only hope was that the Dark Lord would be able to recognize power when power was in front of him. _Why must he always be so proud, why must he have taken it upon himself to wager everything on the Mark?_ Regulus complained to himself in silence. On top of it all - his mother had slapped him. It only happened to Sirius a couple of times and in each of those times, he had gone out of his way to demonstrate his contempt for his family and defy them. Plastering pictures of Muggle girls on the walls of his room, for example, and putting a permanent sticking charm on them. Regulus did not feel like he was being nearly as defiant - as obnoxious - yet he earned punishment, anyway. Ever since the dog left, it had gotten harder and harder to pacify his parents - before, he could do no wrong, but now he was under a magnifying glass, and he did not appreciate it. Even as he struggled to make sense of what had just happened, the thought of the many scars on Severus’s back invaded his mind and he felt ashamed of being upset at all. His mother’s words barely registered - all he knew was that they were vile, and wrong. He also knew it best to pretend to agree with her - there was nothing to be gained from fighting now.

“Yes, mother,” he said. She smiled at him. “May I be excused?” He asked.

“Of course, my dear.”

He went upstairs to his room and brooded. As usual, he blamed his brother. All his life, he took his cue from Sirius - whatever he did, Regulus did the opposite, and it always worked out in his favour. _So why, why, why did Sirius ever have to hate a penniless no-name half-blood so much, despise him enough to want him dead, loathe him more than anything in the world? What choice did he leave me?_ Miserable as Regulus was, he could not help but to be grateful for Sirius’s inexplicable hatred at the same time.

***

Severus stormed out of the Black family home, having realized that Regulus was the exception to the rule in terms of how much love he could expect from them. He was not surprised, exactly - it was just that Regulus never had anything bad to say about his parents, really. But he was aware of how the purebloods felt about him, in general. He had shared a dorm room with them, had he not? They did not hate him because he _existed_ , not all of them were as sadistic as Potter. They did not try to kill him, either - not all of them were as psychotic as Black ( _Sirius_ , he corrected himself. He still had a hard time with the fact that Regulus was his brother). But out of all of them, only Lucius had ever offered him civility, kindness even, and opportunity; only Regulus had ever loved him. The others demanded that he prove himself before deeming him worthy of respect. His association with Lily did not help things, and his mother’s blood did not protect him from the consequences of being seen with her. Thankfully, his dorm mates did not have a Gryffindor temper, or he would not have survived, but he could never call them his friends either.

It used to feel paradoxical to him, that Lucius was different - but when he saw the Malfoy Manor for the first time, he understood it perfectly. Lucius had nothing to prove to anyone. The others were pure, but not _that_ pure, and while they were richer than Severus, that was not saying much at all. Nobody was richer than Malfoy. Before Lucius graduated, he had already taught Severus how to comport himself, and by the time he had returned home for the summer for the first time his accent was already different - the Muggle did not like _that_ \- everything about him was different, but still not quite good enough. To earn his place among them, he would have had to give up on Lily, and pretend to believe things that were simply false. For example, that Dolph was a better wizard than her when she was capable of unassisted flight at age nine and he had produced his most successful jelly-legs curse when he accidentally aimed his wand the wrong way, and ended up casting it on himself. 

Lily had solved one problem for him, or rather, he had solved his Lily problem for himself. He still regretted it, but it was an old pain now. He no longer felt like someone had just ripped his heart out of his chest - Regulus helped there - but he still hadn’t fully accepted that he’ll never see her again now that they’ve graduated, that she cared so little she went with Potter (another wizard who had nothing to prove in terms of pedigree, so of course _he_ could be seen with her with impunity). He quickly reminded himself not to think too hard about that day, because what followed still made his blood run cold - the mockery still rang in his ears. But the reminder failed, because Walburga Black had just disrespected him enough to prime every nerve in his body to feel humiliated and violated. He sat on a nearby bench, his fury now intermingled with hurt he could not put in words. When it had happened, he was already shocked with himself for having called Lily that name. He had no will to defend himself, and he did not even try to stop it. Not that there was anything he could have done - _Levicorpus_ was too strong. James looked him in the eyes before he did it, and Severus could remember his furious expression like it was yesterday. Like it was now. When he thought about it, his own face went numb, and he could not remember what he had thought, at that moment, if anything. Before he knew what was happening, it was already too late. And now, he’d been made to feel lower than dirt again. Reg was the only one who could restore his dignity, and _she_ had called it “night-time romps". He could take being called a Mongrel from the Moors - it was accurate, was it not? - but to reduce him to that, to say everything Regulus had done for him was out of urges… _to think every wizard alive is so impressed with the sacred name of Black that they would just agree to be a Black’s toy, for no reason. That Reg did not love me when he learned legilimency for me. That he did not trust me enough to let me push him off the roof, knowing that I’ll never let him hit the ground._ She was foul, as foul as her eldest, and she had laid her dirty, filthy hand on Regulus, the one and only pure thing in his life.

 _You are not dirt,_ he told himself. _He stood up to her, for you. He said he was lucky._ Pride was a painful thing to have, for Mongrels from the Moors, but the purest pureblood in London and possibly in the world said he was lucky to have Severus, and Severus felt like it had to mean something - he had to be worth something. When the foul woman dared to lay her hand on the beautiful, benevolent child she had somehow produced, it was no longer just his injured pride, but a protective instinct he did not know he had. As soon as it came, it was overwhelming, and impossible to contain. He’d actually threatened her. Sadly, it also made him do something incredibly stupid and wager everything on being able to earn the Dark Mark, and he realized he had no idea if this was possible, much less if it was well-advised. He also had no idea where he would sleep. The thought of Spinner’s End was too bleak and he had just evicted himself out of Regulus’s flat. He decided he might as well start working on his promise to Walburga and Apparated himself to the Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Since this is the first post-Hogwarts chapter, I'm really curious to know what you think! Please let me know, whether it's good or bad!  
> <3  
> Also, I have been struggling way too much with coming up with a name for a completely unimportant character, so make suggestions for a witchy name in the comments if you want!


	15. Chapter 15

Regulus was growing up fast, as new feelings arose in him every day. Disappointing his parents, the first taste of harsh discipline, and now - crashing loneliness. Of course he had experienced loneliness in those two weeks Severus had spent between life and death, but the fear and shame had afforded him a nice distraction from it. Now, he knew Severus was alive and well, but far away, and that nobody but him cared about that fact. Walburga had decided to be proactive, and arranged near daily dinners and lunches with other pureblood families that had daughters, some of them much younger, so young they had barely got their letter, in fact - but Walburga was desperate to ensure her son’s future. If she had to wait 8 more years for grandchildren, so be it, she felt - it was better than Regulus wasting his time with _him._ Regulus sat through meal after excruciating, interminable meal, and tried to be as dull and as thick as he could without his mother picking up on the fact that he was doing it on purpose, and without being overtly rude. “My Regulus plays Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team!” Walburga boasted. “He earned 5 Outstanding OWLs!” ( _damn your tutoring, Severus_ , Regulus thought bitterly). “We have recently bought him a flat right here in London!” ( _I cannot wait to live there with this girl whose last name is Parkison and whose face I forgot even as I was looking at it_ , he continued to complain to himself.)

He wrote to increasingly desperate letters to Severus all the time, but never sent them, for his parents would have noticed if the family owl was gone.

“Severus, I miss you. It is miserable here. Worst summer I’ve ever had.”

“Dear Severus, please come back with the Mark soon or she will try to set me up with herself next, Love, Regulus.”

“Severus, why did you have to be the way that you are? My life could have been easy. I wish I’d never met you - I can’t think of anybody else. Let alone tolerate them. Don’t be long.”

Severus did not waste his time. Lucius was surprised to see him at his doorstep. It was a busy time for the Malfoys, it turned out - they were planning Lucius’s wedding, and so, Severus skipped the small talk, and just said it: “I need to become a Death Eater,” he announced. Lucius had already been marked, and a snake’s tail appeared on his inner left forearm where his sleeve ended. “I need your help.”

Lucius was surprised, but pleased. “I never expected this to appeal to you, Snape. Are you sure?”

Severus nodded. Once, but it was enough. “I must confess, I wanted to recruit you, but it has been busy here since you’ve graduated. I am very pleased you came to me of your own initiative.”

“You did?” Severus asked, confused. He expected to have to claw his way in.

“Oh, certainly. My father sings in your praises, you know that, Snape. You will be an asset. Oh, if only you weren’t part Muggle… I cannot imagine how frustrating this must be.”

Lucius was sympathetic, but at the same time, obtuse. He could not imagine, and he did not really try. It wasn’t only being part Muggle, it was being part Tobias Snape, but Lucius could not discern between different classes of Muggle - Severus was not sure Malfoy had ever met one. What difference did it make to him? What difference did it make to anyone? But it did not matter - Severus was ready to put all this behind him. If he never saw Spinner’s End again, he felt, it would be too late.

“Yes, but I am willing to do the best with what I have. I know the path I need to take. What do I need to do, Malfoy?”

That’s when Malfoy’s face showed apprehension - he furrowed his brow, and sealed his lips. “Being a half-blood is one thing, but part Muggle, Snape… if only he was even a quarter wizard, I am sure it would have been as simple as showing him your NEWT results, but things being the way they are… your loyalty will be called into question.”

Severus was confused. “Did you not just say you wanted to recruit me?”

“Of course I did. And I would have, as soon as you came of age, if things had been different. But it will not be so simple.”

 _Has anything ever been simple?_ Severus wondered.

“If you think I am sentimental about the Muggle, I am not,” he said, and his lips curled upward in contempt. “No one who has met him could be unfaithful to the cause, Malfoy, believe me.”

“Very good. I am very pleased to hear it, Snape.”

“So what do I need to do?”

“I’m not sure. All the other ones are purebloods. I don’t know what you’ll be expected to do. All the Dark Lord asked of me was a promise of faithful service. He is a legilimens. Legilimency is-”

Severus interrupted him: “I know what it is.”

Lucius quickly reined in his surprise - even he did not know what it was before he experienced it.

“That was everything I needed to do - I proved my loyalty and commitment. I do not know what he asked of the others. It must be different for each one, and we are not allowed to say. What do you think you can offer?”

Severus was hesitant. He knew he was powerful, but he knew he had nothing else to offer, nothing but talent. True - Regulus insisted that his talent was rare, the spellcrafting in particular, but Severus was not sure he was right. _And if he is right - when has being different helped you?_ If the Dark Lord could practice Legilimency, he would know, anyway, and he would decide what it means. Severus held his tongue. Then, he remembered his other gift. “Can I borrow your owl, Malfoy? There is something I might be able to offer…” Severus said, cryptically, and Malfoy raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but did not ask questions. “As soon as Athena is back from delivering the invitations to the wedding, you’re welcome to her. It could be a while, though you being here and not all the way up north is definitely going to save some time.” Severus forced himself to smile.

It took her days to return. When she finally did, he wrote to Regulus at once: “Reg, this is Severus. I borrowed Malfoy’s owl. Join too. It will help me get in. We’ll do it together. Use this owl to send your answer, not yours.” All he could do after that was wait for Athena to return.

He could picture it in tantalizing detail - Regulus’s left arm and his, bearing the same Mark, members of the force dedicated to freeing the world of Muggle tyranny. An organization that might put his talents to use, something more than just defending himself against unworthy opponents and interfering with Quidditch matches. The world beyond Hogwarts finally started to look interesting. Lucius cordially invited him to sleep in a spare bedroom - he always had the graciousness to offer, before Severus had to ask - and Severus lay on the bed and felt anticipation the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he got his letter. The only problem was that it would take the blasted owl a week to come back

***

When Regulus received the letter, he decided to reply in person. After all, his parents could not take issue with him travelling to see the Malfoys, and so he was able to tell them where he was headed with complete honesty.

Their house elf opened the door and announced Regulus’s arrival. The manor was buzzing with excitement and preparations toward the wedding, which was a months away. Lucius came down the stairs wearing dress robes that still had pins in them.

“Well, young Mr. Black! this is a surprise! I hope you will forgive my attire. What brings you here?” He asked.

“I want to join you and the Dark Lord.”

Lucius contained the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief. The same conversation twice in one week, and this, of all weeks. It was good, very good - to give the Dark Lord two recruits in one stroke, one of them a Black - that could go a long way toward his goals. He would be able to position himself very highly indeed among the Death Eaters, and Regulus’s pedigree was much easier to swallow.

“Come in and have a seat, Black,” Lucius invited him, and they sat down on the sofa. “Elf! Refreshments for our guest, right away!” He ordered, and their exhausted-looking elf popped out of sight, and immediately returned with a tray.

Regulus shifted in his seat uncomfortably and wondered where in the manor Severus was, if he was still there at all, or maybe working at Malfoy’s father’s apothecary…

“Why do you want to join?” Lucius asked, and unbeknownst to him, images flashed through Regulus’s mind, of scars and of Dumbledore casting a silencing charm, and he was overcome with a sense of unbearable oppression that was only partly his own, and longing for a world where he and Severus could be equals, and no longer have to fight nearly to death for every moment of happiness. Through clenched teeth, he explained: “Dumbledore is corrupting everything. Everything he touches. I cannot continue to study at that school like this. I need to know I am doing something about him.”

Careful not to look overly zealous, Lucius asked him: “Don’t you think you are going too fast? Perhaps you should wait until after you have graduated, see how you do on your NEWTs, see what your options are?”

“I do not need to know,” Regulus said, with steely resolve. “I want to be part of the solution. Our world is degenerating. You can see that.”

Lucius liked what he saw, very much. “You will bring honour to your family, Mr. Black. I could not be more pleased to be your future cousin. I am very glad to see you are not following in your brother’s footsteps.”

 _Setting the bar very high for me, I see._ Regulus could not wait for the day people stop comparing him to Sirius. “Do not talk to me about him. Whatever you think you know about him, he is worse than that.”

Lucius, ever discreet, did not inquire further.

“Do you have a spare room for me?” Regulus asked, very suddenly.

“I admit it is a little crowded at the moment. We already have a house guest. I will check with him, and see if you can share. It’s Snape, do you know him?”

Regulus’s heart skipped a beat, but his face did not show it.

“Yes, he was in the year above me,” Regulus said, as casually as he could. “He tutored me a little,” he added.

“Oh yes, he is very clever, very clever. Well, let us walk up to the guest room and check.”

Regulus would have ran up the stairs, but his cursed future cousin climbed at a leisurely pace, and interviewed him about his dear mother and father, and Professor Slughorn, and Quidditch… by the time his hand knocked on the door Regulus wanted to toss him aside and kick the door in, but still, he carried himself as if the Malfoys' house guest was a person of no consequence to him. “Lucius and Mr. Black, Snape. May we come in?”

“Of course.”

The door opened. Severus placed a bookmark inside a book and laid it on the bedside table, and his eyes lingered on Regulus for a fraction of a second longer than they did on Lucius, who did not notice this. He had no idea that he was witnessing the happiest moment they’d had all summer, or indeed, that it was not a happy coincidence that both of them had showed up in the same week, with the same desire.

“Snape,” Regulus said curtly.

“Black,” Severus replied.

“My dear fellow Slytherins, I must return to the wedding business. Severus, I’m sure Regulus will be able to regale you with stories about the old stomping ground,” Lucius said. “I am sorry I cannot offer you each a room, but with the wedding on the way, every room is spoken for.”

“You have always been generous to me, Malfoy, I appreciate it,” Severus said, and Regulus expressed his gratitude as well and said Malfoy is always welcome to stay with them - “but of course, you’ll be family soon, so it goes without saying!” - and Lucius nodded excitedly and finally, _finally_ , headed toward the door.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your evening,” Lucius said, and closed the door behind him.

“I have never been happier to see the back of his hea-” Severus tried to say, but Regulus jumped on him like a cat before he could finish his sentence.

“No -” Regulus commanded, then kissed Severus’s open mouth, and stopped only to look at him, to soak in his face…

“More -” he kissed his neck next, and Severus’s head tilted back and he exhaled…

“Talking!” He finally said, and Severus obliged with pleasure, as he quickly and silently charmed the door locked.


	16. Chapter 16

Lucius Malfoy pressed down the pale flesh of his inner left forearm, right on the skull’s mouth. Sure enough, he felt it burn within minutes, and knew he had been summoned for an audience with the Dark Lord.

He Apparated instantly and appeared at the LeStranges', the extremely foreign sensation of anxious uncertainty gnawing at him. _Control yourself, Malfoy,_ he scolded himself. He composed himself quickly - chest up, chin up, shoulders back. _You have not been Marked for this long, and you are already bringing him two new followers. If even one of them is accepted, it will have been a remarkable achievement._

He knocked on the door and it swung open on its own. He entered the hall, and his travelling cloak detached itself from his robe and hung itself on the coat rack. The Dark Lord waited for him in the living room, and Bellatrix and Rodolphus sat on either side of him. He went down on one knee and awaited permission to rise - this was the worst part. “You may rise, Malfoy,” his master said, and Lucius rose slower than he wanted to, so as not to betray how much he loathed kneeling. “My Lord,” he greeted him. “Rodolphus. Bellatrix.”

All three of them nodded. “What brings you here, Malfoy? I am certain you did not disturb us without good reason.”

“My Lord, I assure you, I wish only to serve you as best I can. I do not wish to prove unworthy of the Mark.”

“Speak.”

“I wish to bring you two more Death Eaters. Very young, but very bright, very talented. One of them is related to Bellatrix - Regulus Black. The other one is not as - as distinguished, but I can vouch for his talent.”

The Dark Lord gazed intently into Lucius’s eyes, and images flashed through his mind - a newly-sorted child recoiling instinctively from Lucius’s hand patting his shoulder only to realize that nobody is going to hit him, and sitting unnaturally stiffly through the rest of the Sorting Feast… reading third-year level potions and charms books by the end of his first year… chopping and measuring ingredients expertly, making notes in a book that is hovering in front of his eyes on its own… showing up unprompted and uninvited at the Malfoy Manor, asking to be made a Death Eater… interesting… and Regulus Black, of course, although Lucius did not know him very well, came from a very respectable family, that has already yielded him the tireless, fiercely loyal lieutenant sitting to his right. Bellatrix LeStrange indeed preferred Lord Voldemort to her own husband, she had already demonstrated the devotion he knew he would openly demand of them all, one day.

The Dark Lord finally spoke: “Severus Snape is the one of which you speak.”

“He is, My Lord.”

“An unusual choice, coming from you, Malfoy.”

“Indeed, My Lord, but I am sure that you will find that he is -”

“A mangy, dirty half-Muggle my future brother-in-law has taken an unnatural interest in since the day he arrived at Hogwarts, My Lord!” Bellatrix announced, sounding hysterical.

“My dear Bellatrix,” Lord Voldemort turned to her, and his finger stroked her cheek gently. “You are losing sight of what’s important. If he is indeed half-Muggle, recruiting him will serve our cause - we can put up with one, if it makes us more palatable to the rest of the Wizarding World, can we not? Think, Bellatrix, only very few people are as pure as you. Our ascent depends on our ability to appease the masses - briefly, only briefly! Once the Ministry is in our hands, we will no longer have to pretend!”

“Yes, My Lord,” Bellatrix acquiesced.

“But only, of course, if he is indeed as talented as you say. And he must prove his loyalty. Lord Voldemort does not tolerate pro-Muggle tendencies.”

Lucius nodded. “Of course, My Lord.”

“Now, about Mr. Black…”

This part of the conversation went by much faster. 

The Dark Lord set a date for the new recruits to be Marked - _if_ they passed the test, of course, and Lucius’s plan was in motion. He would usurp that utter fool Rodolphus by the Dark Lord’s side - it hardly seemed like Bellatrix would care - he would even undermine her, if possible. _That I am the one to bring in Black, and not her, is excellent, excellent. And if I know Snape, he does not harbour any sympathy toward Muggle filth._

***

Lucius brought his two recruits to the LeStranges', and sniggered at Severus’s surprise at the enchanted coat rack. He sometimes forgot Severus had been to very few proper wizarding households.

The three waited for one of them to be summoned, and sat in uncomfortable silence. 

Severus went in first.

“Severus Snape,” the Dark Lord greeted him. “You have bravely sought an audience with Lord Voldemort. An unusual choice for a wizard of your - ah - background, Severus. I am intrigued.”

“Why is that, Sir?”

“If you prove yourself worthy of the Mark today, Severus, you will address me properly. But of course, you have promised nothing yet, and I cannot enforce rules you have not accepted. I select my Death Eaters very carefully, and I do not tolerate mediocrity or lack of discipline, but my followers will be rewarded handsomely.”

The vigorous nod told Lord Voldemort that his first impression was not wrong - Severus Snape craved recognition, craved hope and promise, but not just any recognition, not just any hope - he had suffered bitter disappointment before. He longed for _fairness_ , he desired _clarity._

“If you are not Marked today, it will be because you will have proven yourself unworthy, unfaithful. It is a brave choice, for a wizard like you, to call my attention to yourself, when - correct me if I am wrong - you are, sadly, not a member of a reputable family.”

“No, Sir,” the hopeful Death-Eater-to-be said, barely disguising his bitterness.

“Yet you have come. The door is open. You may leave now, I will not hold it against you. But if you stay, you shall be tested, and if you fail, I shall remember you.”

Severus did not look at the door. _Get out of here without the promise of the Mark and you might as well break your wand and return to Spinner’s End. There is nothing outside that door for you if you fail._

“I am ready.”

Unbeknownst to Severus, he had just passed the first test of many. Lord Voldemort’s Death Eaters were allowed to believe their position was secure, that they would know when they were being tested. Lord Voldemort allowed his followers to lead their recruits to believe that the test had involved Legilimency, when Legilimency was meant only to gain knowledge and power, the tools he would need to subdue and repress them, to ensure their unfailing loyalty. For a moment, he dwelled on the particularly amusing “tests” he had put his most faithful followers through - Bellatrix, who had married her equal in pedigree, who was otherwise her inferior in every way, how she despised her husband but could not admit it, opting instead to concoct ever-wilder fantasies of purifying the wizarding race - she could be controlled with a whiff of a promise of a world where she could unleash unmitigated cruelty on whomever she felt was responsible for her oppression… Barty Crouch Jr., who could not earn a speck of approval from his father no matter what he did, who in fact seemed to disgust his father more the more he sought his favour, until he finally snapped and became what his father hated the most, who could be controlled with vague threats of displeasure, and who, on top of it, had intimate knowledge of the Ministry… He could not wait to see what weapons the half-blood before him would hand him...

“Excellent, Severus. The test is simple. You shall reveal your mind to me.”

It was nothing like Regulus’s one fledgling attempt at Legilimency. The Dark Lord was a virtuoso, and his instrument was perfectly tuned - he did not need to struggle to feel just the right emotion, he did not need to say the incantation. Images flashed through Severus’s mind astonishingly quickly, jumping back and forth from his childhood to his schooldays, from Spinner’s End to King’s Cross to Hogwarts. _Do not look away,_ he ordered himself, _do not break eye contact, do not fail -_ and he maintained eye contact through it all, and he did not let pride stop him from showing Lord Voldemort everything. His father, his mother, Potter, Black, the werewolf, Dumbledore - all the horror, humiliation, and hate - he was shaking and sweating, but when it was over, and he was back in the present, Lord Voldemort had understood him, and it was intoxicating. “With me, you will be safe, you will be powerful, you will be loved, Severus Snape. You shall be Marked on the next full moon. We will meet again soon,” Voldemort said, stressing the word “soon”, a word that contained a thousand promises, and he continued: “Very soon… Death Eater.” Severus’s heart leaped in his chest. He had made it. He did not let Lucius down, and he did not fail Regulus.

 _I knew you’d make it,_ Regulus thought to himself, relieved that someone besides him was able to see Severus for the treasure that he was. _Protection… power… love… for me,_ Severus thought, hardly able to believe it, and the weight of seven years of disappointment and denial was lifted off of Severus’s shoulders instantly. _Oh, Dumbledore will regret the day he let this one slip through his fingers,_ Lord Voldemort said to himself. _He would have been perfect for the Order, with his ridiculous obsession with right and wrong._ Severus Snape was a veritable feast of vulnerabilities, and at the same time - a great wizard. It was rare, very rare. Lucius knew what he was doing, indeed - he would have to be rewarded for this. He could already anticipate that his biggest problem will be keeping this one down. But Lucius had brought him another recruit, and it did not do well to keep Blacks waiting.

Regulus was summoned, and he entered.

“Regulus Black. I am honored to welcome you to our ranks.”

Regulus was confused - Severus had been there for much longer than _that._

“Thank you, sir, but is - is that it?”

Another one had passed the real test. Regulus both appreciated and resented the advantages his family gave him, he dreaded life without them, and he dreaded not knowing if he deserved them. _Interesting._ “What do you mean, Regulus? Are you surprised? You come from noble stock, why should you not be welcome here?”

Regulus thought of his brother, obviously - but also of his mother, and bitterness welled in him - recently, it felt like his family name had caused him nothing but trouble, but if he was not a Black, he was nothing.

“No, Sir. I am not surprised. I only…”

“Don’t want to only be thought of as a Black, is that it?”

It was the first time somebody put it in words - even Severus could not understand - could not be expected to, given where he had come from.

“Yes, Sir. Exactly.”

“You have nothing to worry about, I guarantee it. I have heard you did very well indeed on your tests, you are a terrific flier - no one in their right mind could say you are not an impressive wizard.”

And yet… he was always being compared to the most disgraceful Black, had recently learned that without said comparison, even his own mother found him lacking, and he was ready to be tested like Severus was, and to see if he could pass the test on his own.

“Please, Sir, I want to be tested.”

 _Not even I could dream it would be so easy,_ Lord Voldemort said to himself, but his face was understanding and appreciative, as he said he respects Regulus’s integrity, and generously agreed to test him…

Countless screaming matches between his mother and his brother flashed before their eyes - there was nothing they would not fight about… His father retiring to his study to enjoy a moment’s peace, as young Regulus watched and only Kreacher stayed with him… his parents doting on him and praising him at random, only for him to find out later Sirius had done something they did not approve of… That dark day when he was sorted into Gryffindor and his mother spent a week crying and shouting… His own sorting, begging “Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin”... making a crying Severus Snape flinch… pouring juice on his brother’s head… Severus drinking Veritaserum… and Regulus looked away. This memory had been too much. _Interesting,_ Lord Voldemort told himself. _Very interesting._

“You have passed with flying colors, Regulus. You will be marked on the next full moon. You will be the pride of the Black Family Tree in the new world - your brother will be all but forgotten… You will be given every chance to prove yourself, and you will succeed.”

If Regulus was not as thrilled as Severus, it was only because he was more certain of the result - but he longed for true challenge, he longed to be loved and appreciated for more than not being his brother. _And I will be. In the new world. Both of us, together._ Severus knew Regulus would be accepted, and in his mind he already dreamed about the marking ceremony, how wonderful it would be to finally be accepted, to belong. Lord Voldemort took mental note of the fact that Regulus seemed to care a great deal about Severus, and it did not appear that the feeling was mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all readers are keeping themselves and their loved ones safe, and that the chapter has provided some entertainment in these trying times, at least. As always, looking forward to your comments.


	17. Chapter 17

The moon seemed to stand still, time was moving so slowly - but the full moon had finally arrived. Lucius insisted that Severus could not be marked wearing his shabby robes, and had him fitted with a beautiful new set - tailor-made, in fact. Before Severus could protest or even promise to pay him back _(how do you imagine you’ll do that?)_ , Lucius interrupted him. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said - “the Death Eaters are your family now.” _Family…_ the word echoed in Severus's mind in exactly the opposite way that Walburga Black’s vicious words had, and Severus struggled to control the wave of warmth and gratitude that washed over him.

Severus allowed himself to relax into his fitted robes. He stood in front of an ornate full-length mirror. Lucius’s tailor crouched on the floor, and clumsily summoned needles that had scattered there. Before Severus could help him, Lucius signaled to him that he must not help the help, and encouraged him to look in the mirror.

As soon as Severus saw himself, he felt different - his head held itself high, his shoulders pulled themselves back, his chest stuck out. Gone was the ever-present wariness and nervousness that always travelled up and down his arms and legs. He felt like he was seeing himself for the first time - mirrors had always been functional at best, to him. Other than revealing that he had something in his teeth or that his clothes were stained, they never told him anything useful or beneficial. He did not much enjoy looking at himself, whatever Regulus had said. Now, however… he was striking - impressive. A man with a future was looking back at him, a man who looked like he belonged in his luxurious surroundings, a man who was untouchable, of whom nobody could guess that his clothes disguised such scars, who commanded respect… In the mirror, Lucius’s reflection smiled. _Oh, Merlin, I must have been staring at myself like an idiot for too long_ , he berated himself and his face was hot. Unfortunately, he was still Severus Snape from Spinner’s End, who stuck out like a sore thumb, who attracted hate like doxys attracted doxycide spray, but not for long - his transformation was already under way, he could feel it. He could not resist one last fleeting look at his reflection before he turned his back to it - he was handsome, handsome! - and told Lucius it was perfect, and Lucius confirmed - “you finally look like a proper wizard”. _And in a few hours, you will have the Mark. Just like Lucius. And Reg too… family._ The Dark Lord promised him - _you will be safe. You will be powerful. You will be loved._ All he had to do was not die in the next few hours, and his life would finally begin. Most importantly, he would finally be able to return to Grimmauld Place and rub Walburga’s nose in it - he hoped she would make good on her promise and drop dead on the spot.

Lucius escorted the tailor downstairs to settle their bill - he was gracious enough to not let Severus hear the exact figure, or even a ballpark - and alone, behind closed doors, Severus indulged himself in a few more moments in front of the mirror. _Imagine that some people feel like this all the time…_ he briefly wanted to set all of his own clothes on fire. _Now, now, don’t be bitter,_ he told himself. _What matters is you have got it now._

Regulus showed up before moonrise, looking more perfect than ever, of course, to drink for the occasion. He had started growing his hair out (“I’m tired of looking like the dog” was the official reason), and it was now chin-length, contrasting beautifully with his complexion and his eyes, and Severus could not understand how the grey eyes could be _vibrant_. He was brimming with anticipation and yet confident, and of course, he already had tailor-made robes, and he looked even more regal in them, and that was Regulus, who carried himself like royalty even in his sweaty Quidditch uniform! Severus saw him shaking Lucius’s hand heartily, and waited for him to notice that he was there too - and sure enough, when he did, his eyes opened wide and his lips parted, and his hand stopped moving inside Lucius’s. Lucius followed the direction of Regulus’s eyes and said: “Oh yes, he looks like he was born in them, doesn’t he?”

Fortunately, Regulus managed to compose himself before Lucius turned back around. “Very nice, Snape,” he said, but when Lucius turned his back to him, he mouthed: “smashing,” and it was even better than looking in the mirror.

The three of them raised a glass of Firewhiskey to the Dark Lord. “You will Apparate with me by side-along apparition, as I am the one who recruited you. I expect that the others will get there before we do, but we mustn’t be late, so let us not dawdle.” They put on their travelling cloaks and Apparated to the forest where the marking ceremony was to take place. “Remember, as soon as we arrive, we must kneel. The rest will be very simple.”

Severus and Regulus nodded, and each one took one of Lucius’s hands. In an instant, they found themselves at the center of a circle of Death Eaters, all in black, all holding hands as well. Severus started to kneel before they had had time enough to recover from the temporary disorientation that inevitably followed Apparition - “I said as soon as we arrive, not mid-apparition,” Lucius hissed at him under his breath as his hand pulled Severus back up. Then, he began to lower himself, and Severus and Regulus followed. “Brethren, old and new, welcome,” the Dark Lord announced. “I am proud and thrilled to accept two new members into our noble family. We must all be grateful to Lucius Malfoy, for offering them a path to greatness, and allowing us to benefit from their many gifts. Lucius, you may rise and join your brothers and sisters."

Lucius, who had been kneeling between Severus and Regulus, rose, held his head unnaturally high, and brushed some dirt off his robes as he walked, his gait stiff, toward his place in the circle. A smirk flitted across the Dark Lord’s face - Malfoy loathed bowing down to anyone, which made it all the more pleasing.

He drew closer to the new recruits. They were so very young - Black was still at school, the other one barely out of school himself… a Death Eater at Hogwarts was a very good thing. _The Headmaster will be none too pleased,_ Tom Riddle told himself. _I did not need the teaching job to recruit students right under your nose after all, did I, Albus?_

Lord Voldemort drew his wand out - yew wood and phoenix feather - the wand that had chosen him all these years ago. He remembered that day like it was yesterday - the day his life truly began. Immense power surged through his arm when he held it for the first time, and a shower of sparks issued out of it. He was overjoyed. When he learned about the unique properties of the yew tree and the phoenix’s feathers, he felt content for the first time in his life. For as long as Tom Riddle could remember, he had been alone. Surrounded by people - _Muggles -_ but alone, feared for his strange powers, despised by those who were not even fit to serve him. The wand that had chosen him was the first perfect fit - magic understood Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle understood magic. The wood and the core told him what the answer was - immortality, by any means necessary, and power - all the power he was denied.

The Malfoys and the Blacks had been the wizarding world’s nobility since time immemorial, and here they were, kneeling before Lord Voldemort, previously known as Tom Riddle, the orphan. Malfoy had only just got up, and Black was still on the ground, waiting to be marked like his cousin. _Let us not keep him waiting much longer._

He moved toward the center of the circle, standing over the kneeling figures of his new recruits. “Regulus Arcturus Black. You are standing in a circle of fine witches and wizards - the finest there are. All of them have learned the Dark Arts, all of them have explored their secrets under my tutelage, and all of them are on their way to moulding themselves and the world. Lucius Malfoy vouched for you, and brought you here today. Do you still want to join us, as you did on the day you passed your test?”

“Yes,” Regulus said, so fast he almost spoke over the Dark Lord. “Yes, I do.”

“Do you swear to serve your master faithfully, to fight alongside your brethren, and if need be, even to die, to see to the removal of undesirable elements and scourges from our world, and to the protection of our kind?”

“I swear.”

“Then hold out your hand.”

Black glanced at the other one and stretched his hand out. Lord Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to Black’s inner left forearm. For the length of one blink, Regulus was on fire, but immediately after that, he was floating on a cloud, as an overwhelming sense of harmony overcame him. His eyes glazed over in idiotic tranquility like all Death Eaters’ had when the hypnotic effect of the spell kicked in. “You will serve your master, Lord Voldemort,” a voice said inside Black’s head, though the Dark Lord’s lips were still. “You will address me as your Lord and Master. You will kneel before me. You will be unfailingly loyal, you will serve me skillfully and fight fearlessly, and you will be rewarded. I have not made my Death Eaters take an Unbreakable Vow, for breaking such a vow guarantees a quick and painless death. It is a kinder fate than traitors deserve, and all traitors will be caught. You will forget the words, but your soul will know. You have been marked, Regulus Black.”

The dull complacency was gone. Regulus looked keenly at his arm, now bearing the Dark Mark. It was beautiful, wondrous.

“You may rise,” the Dark Lord announced, and Regulus rose and walked toward Lucius absent-mindedly, looking at his arm as he did. He took his place beside Lucius, who patted him on the shoulder. “Well done, Regulus,” he whispered. Severus was next. Regulus looked at him intently. His head was down. _Don’t let it go wrong,_ Regulus prayed. _Please don’t let it go wrong_. With the Mark, they would finally be free…

 _Now, the other one,_ Lord Voldemort told himself. _Ah, yes. Severus Snape, the part-Muggle of Slytherin… I have felt your loneliness, and your powerlessness, Snape. I too have been denied the life I was owed by a Muggle father who did not want me. But you see… I am not as contemptible as you are. Your father whipped you and your mother? Mine left her, and she died. You have allowed luckier, stronger wizards to turn you into a joke, and the Headmaster to take the words right out of your throat. You will be like clay in my hands. The Headmaster alone knew what I was, but I have never let him deny me power, for I am not as weak, as pathetic, as you are, you despicable fool. I am not like you. Some make their own luck, and some kneel before those who do. You will be mine forever, Severus Snape from Spinner’s End._

The Dark Lord’s contempt did not show on his face as he made his speech and asked Severus to hold his hand out. A fleeting moment of searing pain, followed by an intense release, euphoric ease - Severus’s conscious mind registered the curious effect. A voice in his head told him he was bound forever. Even though the Dark Lord was standing right in front of him, a part of his psyche was reminded of another disembodied voice that whispered in his ear - Sirius’s. The hypnotic effect that did not quite work wore off, and his hand was marked.

He rose, and took note of how dizzy and unfocused he felt, and of every other detail of what he just experienced. He was sure that he was not meant to remember what had just happened. _Remember? Perhaps you’re hallucinating?_ He was sure that he was not like the others, that it was different for Regulus, who moved to make room for him in the circle and whose face was beaming. He resolved to ignore the doubt. After all, had he not just made it? Had he not just become the first half-blood to earn the Dark Mark? He was determined not to let his mind get in the way of his dreams like it always had. _Why do you always have to be different? Is it the Muggle? Is it Spinner’s bloody End? Is it the fact that you exist despite nobody being interested in that? Was it those two weeks you spent recovering from taking that stupid potion?_

It didn’t matter. He struggled to put the gnawing unease to rest. _You bear the Mark, you are one of them._ He smiled at Regulus, and at his urging, they compared their Marks.

Lord Voldemort did not fail to notice the difference in their reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody is interested, I listened to that song on a loop while writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwzhXdMY9rk
> 
> Thank you for reading and commenting. I hope you've enjoyed my take on the Dark Mark ceremony. Keep yourself safe!


	18. Chapter 18

Severus was always going to be invited to Lucius's wedding, but there was being invited and there was being invited. He was not relegated to the back, he was not there as a peculiar act of charity on Lucius's part, or as Abraxas's apprentice. He belonged, he knew the most important people there on a first name basis, he was dressed the same, he talked the same, and he was there with Regulus Black, the bride's cousin himself.

Days before the wedding, he had woken up in Regulus's flat. He had felt groggy from his experience at the Marking ceremony, and he watched Regulus, blissfully asleep. He struggled to remember, and he struggled to forget. Memories of unspeakable things, memories he was not supposed to have, had threatened to drive a wedge between them before, and Severus was determined not to let it happen this time. After all, he had told himself, _there is no proof that it really was like that. It's just in your stupid mind._ He got out of the bed and washed his face. Kreacher the elf had already made some breakfast, and it was waiting on the kitchen counter, magically kept warm at a perfect temperature. The elf himself was sleeping in his crib-sized bed. As he stirred awake, Severus told him he would bring Regulus his breakfast and to go back to sleep. Giving Kreacher orders felt very strange to Severus, and he felt strangely denied as he'd been spared making his own breakfast as he was used to. He wondered if he would ever have the chance to show Regulus he was not a bad cook, either.

He looked at his left arm as he carried the tray. There was no denying the Mark was beautiful, and Severus could not wait to show it to one Walburga Black. He could not wait to hear her opinion about it - it was her outburst that had inspired him to ask Lucius to vouch for him, after all, and he was not so rude as to deny her credit where credit was due. He could barely feel the doubt that gnawed at him when he remembered the way she'd spoken to him - about him. _Mongrel from the Moors... only after their money..._ In his mind, he asked Walburga: _You've been very good at keeping it in the family, haven't you?_ He looked at Regulus, impeccable and regal, and marveled at the fact that he was indeed related to his mother and brother. The breakfast tray hovered, and Severus slipped back into the bed, under the blanket, which was still warm. It was an advantage of not needing to cook - he was back in bed with food in two minutes. _Maybe I will get used to this,_ he thought. Regulus woke up. “Good morning,” Severus said, and pulled the tray closer to them. “Good morning,” Regulus replied and yawned luxuriously, stretching his left arm... _You are finally equals, just be happy._

“I've been thinking,” Severus said, “perhaps we'll pay a visit to your mother today. I don't want her to think I'm not a man of my word, you understand.” Regulus smiled. He had hoped against hope that this would help - that there was a way to hang on to everything, to be Regulus and to be a proper Black, somehow. For almost his entire life, he had loved being a Black, and he hoped his parents would be proud of him for something he had accomplished, for more than being not Sirius.

“Please try to be gracious,” he asked Severus. Severus's desire to one up those who'd hurt him brought him nothing but trouble, and Regulus had had enough trouble for a long time.

Severus answered: “I will try.” A raised eyebrow later, he added hastily: “I promise!”

They resolved to go there that evening. As Regulus spent the rest of the day reminiscing about the night before, and the Marking, Severus's mind absorbed his love's recollection of the events with greed - _yes, this is what it was like, that is exactly what it was like_ \- shaking hands with the Death Eaters, enjoying a feast, drinking the finest elf-made wine, already discussing their future plans... how everybody there despised the Ministry and Dumbledore, how everybody loved magic, and wanted to push it further, to push themselves further... “and I saw you speaking with Rookwood, I think it's terrific, you'll do wonders at the Department of Mysteries if you can get in, at least I think so - who knows, right?” Regulus finally said something Severus needed to respond to.

“Yes, yes, it was very interesting,” he said, and he hoped he sounded natural. _But you're not lying, what are you worried about? It was fascinating, and you'd love a job at the Department of Mysteries!_

“Don't let it go to waste, Snape!” Regulus ordered him. “It's time they all start adoring you like I do.” It was one of those things Regulus said that warmed Severus's heart even as they made him more acutely aware of how different he was. If Regulus thought there was a chance of Severus Snape being adored by anyone, he was wrong. But this was not the time for arguing about minute points.

Evening came, and the two Apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place. The door opened to let them in, but seemed to close a little too fast, as if to keep Severus out. _Don't be paranoid,_ he told himself, as he pulled the end of his robe to prevent the door from closing on it.

“I think you should talk to them alone first,” Severus suggested, and Regulus agreed. Moments later, he heard her shout, “WHAT?!”, and moments after that, he saw Regulus storm down the stairs. “She thinks you've Confunded me, she doesn't believe you've been Marked, I can't believe it-” and Severus felt the graciousness he had tried to muster transform into grudge, and pushed past Regulus. _Confunded him, have I,_ he thought, and stomped up the stairs as Walburga stormed down. They bumped into each other so forcefully that he nearly fell backwards.

“Thought you'll get me too, I see!” She shrieked. “You've kept my son away from me for too long! I've had enough of you, whatever you want with my family ends now, the house of my fathers has been dishonoured enough!”

She did not know the half of it. Severus had had enough, _enough_ , and his indignation eclipsed the doubt. _It is not I who is dishonouring the house of your fathers, you miserable old hag,_ he thought to himself, and before he knew what he was doing, he pulled up the left sleeve of his robe. “There! There!” He showed her, his half-blood hand inches from her nose.

“Do you think you're the only one who walks around with a fake mark?” She asked. “Diagon Alley is crawling with people like you, miserable frauds pretending to be something that they're not!”

“I dare you to touch it, if you want to draw the Dark Lord's attention to the fact that you've insulted someone he accepted!” He hollered at her. It felt so good, to tower over her, to watch her expression change, to finally demand recognition, not to try to disappear or fade into the background... _this is what you got the Mark for..._ He was a new man, a man at last, he could protect himself, he had power, a presence that commanded respect...

“Stop it!” Regulus shouted at both of them.

“Mum, look, look at this-” he said, rolling up his sleeve. “They're exactly the same. We were Marked together. It's real. Both of them are. Please, both of you, stop.”

A horrible, forced smile spread across Walburga's face...

The very same smile she wore now, at the wedding. Narcissa's pure white dress was woven of shimmering unicorn hair, she was wearing a goblin-made tiara, and a black diamond now sparkled on her slender finger. Lucius wore a set of dragon-skin robes, with buttons made of marble. White peacocks graced the yard, and the most intricate weather charms kept everyone supremely comfortable. Severus never dreamed that he would sit there with the Blacks and the LeStranges, looking like one of them, being one of them, in the very front row, as the Dark Lord himself bonded Lucius and Narcissa to one another. The Minister of Magic himself was not invited - but Severus was. It could not be clearer that this was deliberate - the future belonged to the Death Eaters.

“It is my honour, my pleasure, and privilege to bring the Malfoys and the Blacks together. Two noble, magical families, made one, on this happy day, full of love. Your families have reached a happy accord, but two wizards like you, Narcissa, Lucius, I am sure, will be wise enough to raise one of the finest families Wizarding Britain has seen with no need for contracts. On a personal note, I did not know my family -” the Dark Lord's voice broke - “and I feel so fortunate to watch two wizards become a family, and to have played a part in this process. To Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy!” He concluded, raising a glass of elf-made wine.

Everyone raised their own glass, and Severus took a small sip and looked around him. He was surrounded by happy faces, dizzying wealth, perfect elegance; he was drinking the finest wine, he was treated with nothing but politeness and respect (Walburga's obvious insincerity might have been the best part, he felt). Some Ministry Department Heads were there even if the Minister was not - the Minister’s days were numbered, and they knew it. Rookwood from the Department of Mysteries even made a point of speaking with Severus about a possible job there, again - Severus knew Rookwood'd been Marked as well, and would never have spoken to him otherwise. The most distinguished wizards in the Kingdom were there - Dumbledore being a noteworthy exception, praise Merlin - and they all saw him in his incredible set of robes, surrounded by his equals, spoken to like one of them, and Spinner's End faded into oblivion, and who he used to be was finally gone, gone, gone, replaced with this happy and hopeful new man. _Snivellus who? How could you have ever doubted the Dark Lord?_

Regulus's warm, loving hand slid over his. “Shall we dance?” He asked, and Severus was happy to oblige, and they danced in front of everyone, and they kissed in front of everyone, and Severus finally had no secrets, no fears, no shame. He closed his eyes, music filled his ears, and the perfectly warm wind caressed his face. The air smelled of jasmine. He had never been happier. He doubted that anybody ever was.


	19. Chapter 19

Lord Voldemort knew what his newly-marked Death Eaters were made of. He knew how to cement their loyalty. A junior position at the Ministry for the half-blood would give him something to be grateful for; he ordered Rookwood to hire him. Lord Voldemort’s actions always achieved multiple ends - Severus Snape had to be kept down, and a position at the Department of Mysteries was just the way to do that - the secrecy surrounding their work concealed the fact that they have been failing, floundering and accomplishing nothing, for years. The half-blood would be contained there, treading water, failing day in and day out, and with his eagerness to prove himself, he would resort to increased servility.

If nothing else, it was bound to be amusing.

Black still had a year left at Hogwarts - he would be used for gathering intelligence at the school. _If he truly is related to Bellatrix, he is sure to prove a worthwhile warrior_ , Lord Voldemort told himself.

Severus anxiously prepared for his first day on the job. The Department’s work had been highly classified, and rumor had it that they studied the depths of magic, and so, naturally, it had been a bastion of purebloods - only they could be trusted to understand the importance of secrecy and the true nature of magic. _Only they and I._ It was a higher honor than anything Severus had dared dream of.

Rookwood made an impressive speech: “We study the mysteries of nature and explore uncharted magical territory. Our employees enjoy an extraordinary amount of freedom, as they push the boundaries of magic itself, and manipulate the laws of nature.”

He then walked him room by room and explained the Unspeakables’ various assignments. One room had contained dissected Squib corpses; the Unspeakables there were working on isolating the source of magic in the body. The Hall of Prophecy contained dozens - hundreds - of jars, all prophecies, all reachable only to the person they concerned. _Surely, most of these people are dead, and we’ll never know if the prophecies had come true_ , Severus thought, baffled. _Why keep them?_ A third room contained the Ministry’s supply of time-turners - a fourth, animated brains that appeared to be parasitic, and to sap their hosts’ own brainpower. Severus wondered to himself what would become of one of those poor brains if he set it on Dolph. The fifth room contained a river of Amorentia, the most powerful love potion known to wizardkind. It overwhelmed him, predictably enough, as the room smelled more like Regulus than Regulus (and a trace of the smell of old books and orchids, as well), and Rookwood had to pull him away by the elbow. Severus only heard the end of his sentence, “you must have guessed, the mysteries of love,” and he berated himself, _pay closer attention - you cannot lose this job._

By the end of the tour, however, one thing had become clear: Regulus was right. Severus’s gift was startlingly rare. An entire department was dedicated to creating new spells, to exploring magic, to manipulating nature, and their accomplishments had been non-existent. The star Unspeakable had developed two or three spells; if the others had managed a slight improvement upon something that already existed, it was considered a glorious achievement. Severus wordlessly counted the number of spells he had developed since he first attempted it… he already had seven spells under his belt. It made no sense. It could not be, he had to be missing something. How have witchcraft and wizardry evolved at all since the Middle Ages? Have they evolved at all? Severus could not account for it, and the only explanation he could give himself was that it was a lack of imagination, whatever Regulus had said.

He quickly decided against revealing that he had outdone the entire Department by his 6th year. He thought back to the first trip on the Hogwarts Express, to the moment he directed James Potter’s attention to himself… _don’t put another target on your own back, Snivellus. There has to be something more to it, than this._ The greatest mystery in the Department of Mysteries was how little they had accomplished (Severus could not bring himself to say, even to himself, that he must be as unique as Regulus said he was).

The situation had an upside - apparently, he could indeed do whatever he wanted, especially as Rookwood’s personal appointment. The distressing effect of the lack of guidance, the lack of a clear goal, was that he had time to think - too much. His mind kept wandering back to the marking ceremony. Surrounded, as he was, by people who proved how “unusual” he was by their very existence, he could not help it. He struggled with the memories of that night, and with how being unable to share them made him obsess about them, doubt them, constantly relive them. He forced himself to feel grateful to the Dark Lord despite them, even as part of him protested - _this was supposed to bring you closer to Regulus, and to help you make something of yourself, and now there’s yet another thing you can’t tell him, and you’re deliberately wasting your time._

***

The Mark went off, and the Death Eaters who had been summoned all appeared at the LeStranges’ house.

Regulus was absent, of course - he was at school. The Dark Lord was not so unreasonable as to expect him to appear.

Just like Severus, All of them knelt as soon as they appeared, all of them addressed him as ‘My Lord’ and ‘My Master’. Even Lucius, who clearly found this repugnant, who never would have thought to kneel to anyone. Severus tried to tell himself what he remembered was false, it did not happen. _But if it did not happen, how come they all know exactly what to do?_

His life had improved in every way since he’d been Marked. He was closer than ever to being Regulus’s equal, he had a job others could only dream of, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters had taken nothing from him, they had only given - and inside his head, everything was falling apart, slipping through his fingers. Again, his only recourse was to blame his sick, broken brain.

The Dark Lord ordered him to inform Regulus of his first mission, and Severus accepted his orders. A meeting between the two of them would not look like a briefing - it made the most sense.

***

Regulus was pleased - the Dark Lord had found use for him even at Hogwarts, and had given him an assignment. He was to stalk a student, Eugenia Unguent, and report on her schedule. With the information he would give, Death Eaters would kidnap her from within the school and Dumbledore would become a laughingstock. Regulus felt perfectly at peace with playing a part in this operation - he could not make it public knowledge how well Dumbledore protected students at his school from, say, werewolves; Lupin had already graduated, and he knew he would look a fool if he attempted to tell the story now. If some nobody had to be “kidnapped” and returned to her parents with a couple of bruises for the world to know what Dumbledore was - it was fine by him.

He no longer needed to cast _Gratia Felinae_ to walk very quietly, and no one noticed him as he tracked her. 

***

The next time the Mark went off, Severus was surprised to find himself alone with the Dark Lord. He knew he must not rise from the floor, and he answered the Dark Lord’s questions politely and respectfully - “I am still learning at the Department of Mysteries, My Lord", “I am looking forward to my next assignment, My Lord.” 

“You are a gifted potioneer, Severus,” Lord Voldemort remarked, out of the blue. Severus hesitated to answer. “There is no point concealing it, Severus… there is no virtue in false modesty.”

 _If I must,_ Severus told himself.

“Yes, Master, I am.”

“Then you are to put your talent to use for me.”

Severus was glad to be finally given an assignment he could understand. 

“You will aid me in the fight against my most bitter enemy. You will brew the Drink of Despair. I have arranged for every expense to be covered - every ingredient you might need. Understood?”

“Yes, My Lord. I promise.”

 _Finally,_ Severus told himself. The Dark Lord’s most bitter enemy… he did not need to say it aloud for Seveurs to understand whom the Dark Lord had meant - Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who’d allowed Sirius to get away with murder, who’d punished _Severus_ for being nearly killed, who’d allowed Potter to brag and spread lies until he finally wore Lily down, who would not even let Severus tell Regulus… Severus was very happy. Brewing the Drink of Despair for Dumbledore was exactly what he wanted to do, and he did not even know it until the Dark Lord assigned him to do it. Again, his chest expanded, he relaxed, and his gnawing doubt was silenced. He was exactly where he belonged.

“My Lord,” Severus proclaimed, “it would be an honor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, cora_ceisg, for the idea for Eugenia's name!


	20. Chapter 20

Lily Potter sat beside James’s bed. It was just like their first year dating, except it was nothing like that. Back then, he had landed himself there because of a Quidditch injury. Now, they were married, not dating; they were warriors, not students; and the stakes were much higher than 150 points.

They were at Hogwarts on Order business.

The Death Eaters had had a plan to kidnap a student from within the school - a false flag operation to make Dumbledore look weak - and James had volunteered for the mission to stop them. After all, his intimate knowledge of the castle was still fresh in his mind. He’d managed to save the student, but he’d taken a nasty blow and he lay there, out like a light.

Lily was going out of her mind with worry. She needed something to take her mind off planning James’s funeral. Sadly, the hospital wing had little to offer by way of distractions, so she settled on old records. She couldn’t help but notice a very thick file labeled “S. Snape.”

_I’m in the order… Dumbledore won’t mind a little breach of confidentiality… wait, do wizards have that?_

She tried to skip over the things she already knew about - they were still friends when a lot of that had happened, although she was surprised to find out there were things he had not told her about from the very beginning. _Well, you obviously did not know him that well_ , she reminded herself, as she remembered what he had become. His own housemates jumping him for being friends with a Muggle-born, for example - she did not know about. She almost started to feel sorry for him again, like she used to, before he called her _that_ , when she was only trying to help.

Her finger trailed over the words “presented with acute shock after being tricked into entering the Shrieking Shack on the full moon. No bite.”

She had to read that three times to make sure she got it right. _Acute shock, alright._

The folder nearly fell out of her hand. She had known the truth about Lupin for a while now, of course; they had explained what the nickname “Moony” was about a long time ago. “You mean Snape was right?!” She asked them, and they all exchanged glances. He had told her - “there’s something weird about that Lupin”. Now Lily realized that she should have put two and two together the moment they had told her - Moony was what James had saved him _from_ , how could she have not realized that? But then, why had Severus not told her? Why had he been so weird about it all? It made no sense. She continued to read and soon she reached the record of the day their friendship had ended. She still remembered it with a pang of hurt and regret, if she was being honest with herself.

She knew what had happened after she had left the lake - it wasn’t exactly a secret, how that had worked out. James told her it was because of what he had called her, said he was not proud of how his temper had risen. What she did not know was that “Snape was attacked in the Gryffindor Tower after trying to speak with L. Evans.” It never occurred to her how much danger he had put himself in, coming near the Gryffindor Tower to apologize after what James had put him through…

The 6th year records were somehow even worse. “Brought in by an elf, attempted hanging. Does not speak.” It hit Lily like a brick, but with shaking hands, she continued to read, and a cruel thought came to her: _At least you aren’t thinking of James anymore, are you?_

“Brought in by R. Black. Veritaserum+Silencing Charm - seizure, nearly fatal, possibly intentional.” _That’s why he didn’t tell me. And I dismissed him. So_ that’s _why he started talking nonsense all of a sudden._

“Attacked in his sleep in the hospital wing, claims it was “invisible Sirius Black” - diagnostic tests rule out delusions.” It was somehow even harder to take in than anything else - Lily noted that even Pomfrey’s handwriting betrayed her shock. _Did James know about this? Did he give Sirius the cloak?_

The file seemed to go on forever. Even last year, when it seemed like they had finally grown up. Lily looked up at her sleeping husband and wondered whom she had married.

As if her disquiet was infectious, James stirred awake. “Is Eugenia alright?” He asked. Lily realized she had completely forgotten about what brought them to Hogwarts in the first place.

“Yes,” Lily answered, a distinct coolness in her voice.

“Alright, I know I did not get in trouble while lying here!” James protested. He was already familiar with the many shades of Lily’s disapproval, but this time, it was different.

“You were lying, alright…” Lily said through gritted teeth. “You have one chance to tell me the truth. Why does this file say that somebody tricked Snape to go down to the Shrieking Shack on the full moon? If only the four of you knew, who did it? Why did you continue to attack him after you have promised me you’d stopped? What else did you lie to me about?”

James blinked slowly. He could not be in trouble over Snivellus again. He had just saved a student from being kidnapped by Death Eaters. He rubbed his temples; his head was pounding. “You can’t be serious. You hate him. He called you a… well, you know! Remember?”

Her nostrils flared, and her face was white. “Answer me.”

“Well, you know what he was like, and you know how Sirius can get… he told him how to get past the Willow, he thought it would be funny, but I got there in time and saved him, mind you, and Albus forbade him from telling anyone, and it’s a good thing he did that too, because that sneak would have had us all expelled!”

Memories of that argument with Severus swam through Lily’s mind. “I don’t want to see you being made a fool of,” he had said to her, and she realized he was right - she’d been made a fool of. “YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN EXPELLED!” She roared, and then she realized something. “Actually, why would _all of you_ have been expelled, you idiot? Only Sirius did anything wrong!”

“We may have gone out into the village together,” James said with a mischievous grin. “It was harmless fun, Lily.”

“You could have infected somebody,” she whispered, horrified. She controlled her rage with an effort. “Why did you lie to me after we’d started seeing each other? Why do I see that it never stopped? What did you do to him when he tried to apologize to me?”

“Lily, enough. I have an ice pick behind my eye as it is. I don’t even know why you care all of a sudden. You know he’s in league with Malfoy and the Blacks and the lot of them, don’t you? Can you get me some water, _please?_ ”

“With pleasure,” she replied in a tone James had never heard before, as she wordlessly produced a stream of cold water out the tip of her wand on to her husband’s shocked face. With that, she left a thoroughly confused and indignant James Potter to deal with the ice pick behind his eye on his own.

 _While I’m here_ , she told herself, as she decided she had to know the truth, and if that meant seeking out Regulus Black, so be it. True, Sirius always said his brother was a pureblood fanatic like the rest of them, but she did not know what to think about anything Sirius had said anymore. Absurdly, she sent Regulus an owl. The owl even looked at her quizzically. “I know he’s at school! I’m sorry!” She told it. “I don’t know where Slytherins spend their free periods!”

> “To Regulus Black,
> 
> I need to ask you some questions. This is not on Order business. It’s about Severus. Please consider meeting me in the library. I come in peace.
> 
> Lily Potter”

She went to the library with Severus’s folder and read the awful history of her former friend’s school years, and by the time Regulus entered the room, she felt completely lost: Who was Severus? Who was James? Who was Sirius, and who was Dumbledore? _Who are you?_ She even asked herself. _Have I done wrong? Am I the one who should have apologized?_

Regulus entered the room as quietly as a cat, and Lily was so immersed in the file, that he had to cough loudly to announce his arrival.

Startled, Lily jerked and threw the thick file a few centimeters in the air. Regulus’s hair was a bit longer than she remembered, and he was taller. She did not know where to start, so she stared at him. “Did they not teach you how to say hello in Muggle school?” he asked her. _You are not going to make this easy, are you,_ she thought.

“Errrr, hi, Regulus. Please come in. And close the door behind you.” _Like I need to be seen with you_ , he thought, and did as she had asked.

“What is it then?” He inquired.

“You and Severus have been… you’ve been… _together_ , Sirius tells me. Well, he didn’t tell anyone, it just makes him so angry we all sort of guessed. And that file says you’ve visited him lots. Right?”

“What do you want?”

_Why did he even come here if he is not going to try to- No, Lily, it’s your only chance, just humour him._

“OK. It’s none of my business, I understand that. It’s just… well, here.” She flipped a couple of pages back and pointed at the words that described what she used to think was a heroic rescue mission.

“What about it?” Regulus asked.

The lack of shock in his eyes told her everything. It was true. Regulus knew about it somehow - even though Severus could not tell her.

“I think I screwed up, Regulus, I think I made a mistake. If everything in here is true, it looks like he spent the entire 6th year at the Hospital Wing, it says he tried to hang himself, it-”

“WHAT?!” Severus grabbed the file out of her hand and sure enough, there it was. He never asked how Severus booked himself a bed there on that first night - he was just glad he finally found him, and then annoyed, and then glad again. “No, no, he couldn’t have, he would have told me - shown me!”

“That’s the problem,” Lily said. “It turns out he was always very good at keeping a secret, and I… I don’t know anything anymore.”

Regulus calmed himself down. It had happened two years ago. Whatever Severus had done to himself then and had somehow kept from him, they would talk about it later. “Only one time, right?” He asked her.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t. That was before… never mind. So, you were saying?”

“It says he nearly died because he drank Veritaserum, that he was under some type of silencing charm… and that they attacked him after that Quidditch match, and then Sirius attacked him in his sleep. It says James never left him alone, and he lied to me, Regulus. I swear, I didn’t know. So all of this is true?”

“Yes, it’s true, Evans. Might I ask what difference does it make?”

“What do you mean?”

“From what he told me, you stopped speaking with him when he called you a mudblood. You did not make much of an effort to find out the truth about the werewolf and what Sirius did even before that. I never understood him, really - he always insists that you are different. Used to be. That you were kind, that you were best friends. Yet he called you a name once and you gave up. So… What difference does it make what Potter and my brother did or did not do?”

Lily blinked. She was not used to being chastised. It was common knowledge that she was more the type to give lectures than to be given a lecture to - but then, Regulus was right, and she knew it. She took a deep breath. “It’s been hard, all right? None of my friends understood me, and he’s been miserable all the time-”

“I do not remember asking you what it’s been like. I asked what difference does it make. Yes, Sirius and James did everything it says they did. What do you care?”

“I care that he’s not who I thought he was!”

“Who isn’t?”

She thought a little.

“Anybody!”

He looked at her with clear disinterest.

“Is that all, Evans?”

Regulus was a dead end. And he was incredibly rude.

“Yes,” she said, hanging on to her pride, but as he started to leave, the words left her mouth before she could think: “If I send him an owl, will he accept anything from me?”

He turned his head backward to look at her, and she did not conceal the urgency or the longing.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, but he did not feel like she deserved to be spared everything he had to say. “I don’t think he will be so petty as to not forgive one word, you know.”

With that, he turned and left. His impression of Lily remained the same - but Severus insisted there was more to her than that, before the Gryffindors got to her, “before this so-called school of magic ruined her creativity,” as he had put it. Regulus hoped that at the very least, he would be able to call him Sev from now.


	21. Chapter 21

The mission to kidnap a student out of Hogwarts had failed, and the Death Eaters expected retribution. It should have been straightforward, and yet somehow Dumbledore had been able to thwart them. When no retribution came, for days on end, many of them had gotten increasingly paranoid, feeling as though their Mark was burning even though it was not.

It was almost a relief when they had finally been summoned, one by one, to the LeStranges’ house. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were on either side of the Dark Lord, and they watched as each Death Eater materialized out of thin air and dropped to his knees. Some of them shouted that they had nothing to do with the failure, without even being asked. Yaxley had barely parted his lips from the hem of the Dark Lord's robe before suggesting that the guilty one was Jugson. The Dark Lord concealed his fury, but Bellatrix did not conceal hers - Yaxley had some nerve, to interfere with the proper way to do things. She knew - everyone would be interrogated, and the guilty one, or ones, would pay the price of this defeat. She made a tiny movement with her wand - the Cruciatus Curse was her specialty, and her wand, that had so often served as a conduit of her rage, could now inflict a lot of pain even without the incantation, almost as if it had gained its own reflexes. Her upper lip curled upward as Yaxley shrieked from the brief moment of pain. Bellatrix knew they would catch the guilty party - no one could lie to the Dark Lord. Her only concern was that her own flesh and blood was the prime suspect. She knew why her master had waited so long to summon his followers - he had to make sure the prime suspect could attend the interrogation, and this was only possible during a Hogsmeade weekend.

Her cousin Regulus was summoned last. He did not appear more distraught than usual when he Apparated, but it did not matter - they had very good reasons to suspect him. Of all the people who knew about the mission, he was the only one still at school, and he had ample opportunity to warn Dumbledore. Regulus took his place near the half-blood at the table, right next to their recruiter, Malfoy.

Bellatrix prepared herself for the most likely outcome - she would have to torture her own. _This is an opportunity, Bella, a chance to show your devotion, and to show them that the Dark Lord comes before all - traitors will not be spared for family ties. On the contrary - I will not be disgraced because he had decided to betray us._

The Dark Lord rose from his seat, and Bellatrix had to conquer her urge to follow. She loved being by his side, and even a little bit of distance had hurt her. As she planted herself more firmly in her seat, her fingers closed more tightly on her wand. _The traitor will pay for this as well - the time we could be spending together, and we are spending it questioning the Death Eaters as though they were misbehaved children who had broken a vase._ The Dark Lord was too merciful, as far as she was concerned - she would have gone straight to interrogation by torture.

She watched him pace with his hands behind his back. Each footstep made a dull sound on the stone floor.

“There is a reason I have summoned you all here on this particular day. All of you must be aware, by now, that our most recent operation has been an unacceptable failure. This cannot repeat itself, and all my Death Eaters must be here to prevent this from recurring.”

Suddenly, he smiled.

“If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about. I am not a cruel man, and all of you have proven loyal so far.” His smile left his face, and the effect was chilling. “All of you, I'm afraid, except our youngest and most recent recruits. It is not their fault. They simply did not have the opportunity to prove themselves yet. Yes... some of you might have guessed it. I have summoned you here on this particular day because we require the presence of Regulus Black.”

Regulus seemed genuinely surprised. Lucius, though seated next to him, moved in his chair, closer to the Death Eater who sat to the other side of him, his face disdainful and calculating. The half-blood fixed his eyes so firmly on the table it seemed as though he would bore a hole into it with his gaze. From the height of her throne-like chair, Bellatrix saw their knees were almost touching.

The room was silent. The Dark Lord continued. “Dumbledore has been able to thwart our plans, enlisting the help of one James Potter. Some of you” - he stood behind the half-blood and paused briefly - “know his work. Indeed, some of you have lost to him before.”

He resumed his pacing.

“But there is no shame in it, none at all. It is the person who made it possible for Dumbledore to enlist James Potter, to prevent us from overthrowing him, whom I am angry with. But you can still be forgiven, Regulus. Do you admit it?”

Bellatrix was disgusted at the child-like confusion on her cousin's face. His eyes were open so wide, and his insolent lips parted only to lie - “M- My Lord, I did not say anything,” he stammered. The Dark Lord smiled and put his hand over Regulus's shoulder. Bellatrix was outraged on her master's behalf, but her master seemed almost forgiving. The half-blood ran his hand on his forehead, seemingly to get the hair out of his eyes. “Are you speaking the truth, Black? Are you - ah - quite sure? Perhaps your headmaster has hoodwinked you, perhaps you did not intend it?”

Regulus insisted: “My Lord, I have not, I swear it.”

“So. You wanted the operation to succeed. You have indeed given us accurate information about Ms. Unguent's habits. But I must question you. You have had the most opportunity.”

Regulus was smart enough to look into his master's eyes, as he said: “I have not, My Lord. I want nothing more than to see Dumbledore exposed for what he is.”

“Have you discussed the details of your assignment with anyone else? Any of your teachers? Any other student? Perhaps someone had seen you, and you did not think it warranted mentioning?”

“No, My Lord. I have followed your orders, exactly as Severus relayed them to me.”

“Very well, Black. You are speaking the truth.”

Lucius closed his eyes and exhaled audibly. His recruit had not dishonoured him.

“Now, Severus, I cannot reasonably accuse you of loyalty to Dumbledore,” the Dark Lord said, apparently to himself. “But you have not proven your faithfulness to me.” Bellatrix watched the half-blood turn his head up slowly. Recruiting him had been a mistake, she knew it - her master insisted he would make it easier for the masses to accept his reign if they pretend people like him have a place among them - but people like him were muck, they had to learn their place. She was glad her master had shifted his focus from her cousin, who had been faithful after all, to the half-blood. _I will remove his Mark if I have to unburden him of his hand,_ she told herself.

“Indeed, you have been Marked three months ago, and you have not volunteered for a single mission while your brethren have faced the Ministry's Aurors; instead, you have enjoyed your job at the Department of Mysteries while others have placed themselves at risk. What have you to say in your defense?”

Severus did not answer immediately. It seemed to take an extra moment for him to remember he had to answer the question.

“My Lord, I have relayed your orders to Regulus exactly as you had told them to me. I submit myself to your interrogation.”

***

Severus knew he should have been more afraid - the Dark Lord had spoken as though he knew Severus had second-guessed everything - but he had just let Regulus go, and so Severus felt genuine gratitude and relief. He felt like he could withstand whatever punishment the Dark Lord had in store for him. His master looked into his eyes, and ordered him to show him exactly what he had told Regulus. Severus obeyed without hesitation - and the Dark Lord saw him brief Regulus perfectly. He then saw him Apparate out of Hogsmeade without speaking to anybody. A thought occurred to the Dark Lord - perhaps Severus had intended for Potter to be injured, or even killed? But when he evoked in himself the desire to hurt, to see his enemies suffer, and looked into Severus's eyes, he saw nothing. Severus was too happy Regulus had been spared the Dark Lord's wrath. _Excellent,_ Lord Voldemort thought. _It has not even occurred to Severus to further his own ends._ He had never had another follower so wonderfully servile.

***

Bellatrix watched as the most obvious suspects had been eliminated, as her master grew angrier with each one. She watched Yaxley volunteer to punish the traitor himself, she watched Dolohov try to reason with the Dark Lord that if it had been up to him, he would have made an attempt at Dumbledore's own life, she watched Lucius explain that he has no sympathy for blood traitors like Potter and that if he had been involved in this, he would have made sure Potter met his maker, and she watched Karkaroff declare, quite gratuitously in her opinion, that he would never put his fellow Death Eaters at such risk. Finally, there were only two people left - her, and Rodolphus. Her revolting husband was the traitor. He was positively glimmering with sweat by the time the Dark Lord reached him. As soon as the Dark Lord turned to look at him, his face full of contempt, he shouted: “It was only a mistake, My Lord! I didn't mean to -”

“Silence.” The Dark Lord hissed, and the two rows of teeth did not part as he spoke.

His glittering eyes looked into her husband's doughy, pitiful face, and he started laughing. “You got drunk at the Leaky Cauldron and advertised our plan to the whole pub, Rodolphus? Have you considered taking a full page ad on the Daily Prophet? And now you have sat here and allowed me to question your fellow Death Eaters, hoping, perhaps, that one of them will take the punishment intended for you?”

Bellatrix’s husband began to grovel, and she had had enough. “My Lord,” she panted. “I will punish him. Please, it will be my highest pleasure.” Her chest rose, and her master surveyed her from the top of her head to her dragon-skin boots.

“Your own husband, Bella?” He said, fiendishly.

Rodolphus looked at her, imploring for mercy. She looked right at him but without meeting his eyes, and back at her master. “He is no husband of mine,” she said. “He is a loose-lipped traitor, My Lord. Let me punish him.”

“As you wish, Bellatrix,” he whispered softly, and Bellatrix drew her wand, and her husband covered his head with his hands as though there was any stopping his wife's Cruciatus. She briefly caressed her wand before she spoke the incantation, and she looked at him coldly, almost bored, as the red light from her wand hit him. She knew that the pain was as though she was ripping off his fingernails, as though she had exposed his nerves and touched them directly to ice, as though he was both set on fire and torn limb from limb.

“That is enough, Bellatrix,” her master ordered her after Rodolphus had stopped trying to run away between curses. His voice released her from her trance. She had forgotten the others were there.

The half-blood looked nauseated. _Let him_ , she thought. It was one of the very few times in Bellatrix's life when as though nothing could disturb her.

“Lucius,” the Dark Lord said, “I think you have proven more worthy of a place by my side. The Death Eaters you have recruited have been faithful, after all. Someone drag Rodolphus to St. Mungo's”, he ordered. “It will be the killing curse if you tell them it's your wife,” he warned the whimpering mass that trembled on the floor. Lucius stepped over what was left of her husband as he took his place on the throne-like chair. “Bellatrix, you have done very well,” her master told her. “Your loyalty will not be forgotten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stopped replying to your comments on the chapters because I feel like saying anything would give away too much at this point, but I want you to know your comments make me very happy and I love them - you're the best! The story is written down up to Chapter 25 but I've had some trouble plotting out the rest in an interesting way, so let me know if you want me to just post the remaining chapters or stick to the usual pace of two chapters a week and hope I can catch up and still have a solid buffer - I don't want to abandon this fic but it might be a while before I have anything good to post. Thanks again for reading and rooting for Severus and Regulus <3


	22. Chapter 22

Severus opened the windows in Regulus's flat, and closed them again, and opened them again. He did not know what to think. For weeks, he had been telling himself that he must be crazy, that he had hallucinated that vision of the Dark Lord speaking directly to his mind, threatening him with bondage and torture. He had been forcing himself to list the many things he had to be grateful for. _Walburga has been forced to accept you. You have a job. You live in London. You will never set foot in Spinner's End again. The Dark Lord looked into your heart and he promised you - he promised you protection, power, and love, everything you wanted, did you expect this right away, for your path to be smooth? Are you that dense? Are you not happier, now, than you've ever been? Have you ever gone this long without being attacked?_

And yet, however much he tried to push it down, the memory plagued him - and it was at once unreal, and more real than anything else. _He had you kneeling and branded like cattle._ _He said all traitors will be caught, he said they will be punished..._ for weeks, he told himself it was all in his head, that his stupid mind is playing tricks on him because he is too damaged and ungrateful and does not deserve it, and now, he had proof. Rodolphus, who used to sit at the Dark Lord's side, had only made a mistake, and his own wife punished him with the Cruciatus. She had reduced him to a pulp in minutes, and she did not stop until he stopped fighting _(don't think about the Muggle)_ \- and if that could happen to Rodolphus, who had gotten drunk and did not do it on purpose, what could happen to Severus, who could barely remain faithful for as long as it took to get the Mark? Or to Regulus, who was barely of age - what if Regulus had let something slip, would he have been tortured too?

_But he assigned you to brew the Drink of Despair, he's going to give it to Dumbledore, you are going to get your revenge, and Regulus is not stupid enough to get drunk and brag about Dumbledore's impending removal, is he? No, Regulus is clever, he always has been - he can follow simple orders - he will be fine (as long as you keep lying to him) (but he will know you are, and he might read you, too!)_

He opened the windows and closed them, and felt like he was suffocating and opened them again, and felt like he was being watched and closed them again. He paced like the Dark Lord had paced, and visions of Rodolphus whimpering, of the Dark Lord investigating Regulus, did not afford him a moment's peace. On top of it all, he was still lying every day at the Department of Mysteries. He did not understand - could not understand - how they all had let themselves get away with so little to show for their time there.

When a knock on the door was heard, he jumped out of his skin. _They're on to you. You're going to pay. One of your lies has finally caught up with you. And you fidgeted with the windows like a fool, they know you're here._

He put his hand in his wand pocket, just in case. “Who is it?” He asked.

“It's me,” Lily answered from behind the door, and shocked him just enough to drive all other thoughts out of his mind. “Lily,” she clarified, as if he could mistake her voice.

Abandoning all caution, he opened the door, and there she was - her face covered in tears, with a ring on her finger, and she was holding a file that said “S. Snape”.

They stood without speaking. Suddenly, his mind was empty, and he could not think of what to say. Over two years ago, he had felt as though he had ripped her out of his own flesh, and there was nothing he could do to fix it - even begging her forgiveness outside her common room did not work. He watched from afar as she became a different person, and he struggled to forget her, although he never could, and there she was now, a bit taller maybe, and married, but otherwise just the same.

All he could think to do was to ask her what had happened.

“Oh, Severus,” she said, and her lower eyelid twitched as though she was about to start crying again, and she sniffed - “I didn't know, I swear I didn't know.”

“Didn't know what?” He asked her, his confusion escalating.

“Anything! If I had, I never would have - oh, Sev, I'm so sorry!”

She threw her arms around him, and his body tensed and relaxed back into a state of extreme confusion. He did not know what to do with his arms, or what to say, or what she was talking about. Slowly, he raised his hand and patted her on the shoulder. They were still standing on the threshold. “Would you like to come in?” He asked her, as if this was not insane. She walked in and he shut the door behind them. When he turned back to look inside the living room, Lily was still there.

“So... you were saying?” He prodded.

“This,” she raised the hand that was holding the file. “Hospital Wing record. It says - oh, god - it says Sirius tried to get you to - when Lupin was - and Dumbledore put a silencing spell on you?! And James never told me, Sev, I only found out from this!”

 _Right. Yes. Sirius. This also happened to you._ Lily reminded him of himself, when he had tried to get the words out in front of Regulus under the effect of Veritaserum, and even then, could not. There was only one way to find out if the file told the truth. “Yes, he tried to use his werewolf friend Lupin to kill me,” he said, and the words came out. She knew the truth. “How did you get this?”

“Death Eaters - they attacked Hogwarts, and James fought them, and they hit him. Look, it doesn't matter, he's still recovering, I left him there. I just... Regulus said, he said you - you might like to see me - and you said we were best friends - and I wish I had done everything differently, I wish I'd known, Sev!”

Reality came crashing down upon him as soon as she said “Death Eaters” - as though he was not one. All these months and years ago, he had dreamed of telling Lily, he had prayed that she would find out somehow, and believe him, and not look at him like he was crazy - and now, he got it, and he was a Death Eater, and she was married to a member of the Order. “Are you in the Order of the Phoenix?” He asked her, his throat dry.

“Yes,” she said. “Of course I am. Dumbledore had recruited me in our 7th year.” Of course he had. Memories of their Sorting, her sad smile, and the pitiful tenure at Hogwarts that followed, came unbidden to his mind.

Suddenly, he was angry - all he ever wanted was an escape, and every place that had held this promise had failed him. Cokeworth had given him a friend, but otherwise, only pain and a chip on his shoulder - Hogwarts, his would-be escape, had taken away his friend and given him more pain. Now she came back - and she was in the bloody Order.

He asked himself, suddenly: So what if she was sorry, now? Regulus had no reason to believe him, but he made an effort, and Sirius was his brother. Lily had just believed James, and had acted as though she could not wait to be shot of him. What was he supposed to do now? Be _grateful_ that she apparently believed attempting to kill him was wrong?

“I said I was sorry,” he said to her, without looking at her. “I risked my neck just to say I was sorry... and you walked up to your common room and never spoke to me again. Was I that bad a friend, Lily? Was it so hard to believe that I didn't mean it?”

She pursed her lips. For a change, she was the one who was lost for words. Severus knew exactly how that felt - it was not that there was nothing to say, it was that there was too much, and nothing could cover it, nothing was right. If she had let him finish a sentence back then instead of walk back up, he would have said so many things - “I need the Slytherins on my side,” or “I will never call anyone that,” but what he had really wanted to say was only “he tried to kill me,” and he never could have - no matter how long she waited.

Was he cursed? Was he doomed to get everything he ever wished for - in exactly the wrong way? Becoming a Death Eater was supposed to make it easier to be with Regulus, it was supposed to help him make something of himself, and all it had done was create a distance between Regulus and him, and he was terrified of revealing that he was a spell crafter, and prohibited from telling anyone that in fact, the Department of Mysteries was doing nothing... And now, Lily has come back - and she was in the Order, and he was just what she had accused him of wanting to become.

He felt himself lose steam. There was so much more he was upset with her about. He heard himself say, much too meekly for his taste, “Dumbledore... I tried to tell you. I tried to get you to understand. It came out wrong. You said I was being ungrateful - I-”

She interrupted him - “I'm an idiot. Even when they told me about Remus, I didn't get it. And you were alone, for months you've been alone, and I never understood why you were acting so strange and why you'd nearly stopped going anywhere outside the Slytherin tower and doing anything. It's all I've been thinking of. I'm just an idiot, Sev.”

“But you _married_ Potter. Have you lost your mind?”

Her hands trembled, still holding the file. Since she'd first read them, the words had been jumping at her, attacking her at random. She would be doing something, anything, picking out clothes to wear, or reading, and she would suddenly remember yet another terrible thing she had read. Attempted murder. Attempted suicide. Two weeks he spent sleeping off poison. An attack on a sleeping patient. Even when she and James had already been seeing each other, he’d still managed to hex Severus, and then looked her in the eyes and told her that he loved her. That she made him better. That she deserved to be happy and have friends who appreciated her and didn't just use her to pass the time while stuck in Cokeworth. She felt dirty.

“He'd tricked me. I know now. He made himself out to be the hero, with you, and I was so impressed. You don't have to forgive me but you have to know - I'm sorry. And I never should have -”

“You would have left me anyway. You've been wanting to - I don't blame you, Lily. I'm that Snape boy, aren't I? It's always been hard. And we came to Hogwarts and you made other friends who were magic and I - I didn't, did I? And you were a Gryffindor” - he imitated pulling a sword - “and I was a Slytherin - and that's it. We were like brother and sister and all of a sudden we were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin and nobody would let that stand.”

She listened to him and she had nothing to say. The file she held in her hand told her that the Slytherins did not make his life easier than the Gryffindors had made hers, but he had fought, tooth and nail, and she did not.

“Is Regulus good to you?” She asked.

“You see?” He asked her icily. “You don't even deny it.”

“No. It's all true. It was too hard and I stopped fighting and I waited for an excuse and I took the first one that came and even when they told me about Remus, I didn't think of you, and I've been an idiot and a coward.”

It was everything she had wanted to say. She was ashamed, but she was relieved. Severus stared wordlessly at his own arm.

“Well, is he?”

He seemed unfocused, like he was in a different conversation.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, he is.”

 _At least,_ she told herself, _there was that._ She might have been an idiot, and a coward, but at least he had found someone. A man, and a Black no less, but someone. She hoped there would come a time when she could ask Severus how the hell _that_ had happened, but now was not it.

“I really wanted to tell you, Lily.”

“Yeah. I missed it. I'm sorry.”

“So, how is the Order?” He asked, in mock-cheerfulness. “Is it what you had hoped you'd do after school, fight a losing war for Dumbledore while he is basking in the glory of the fabled defeat of Grindelwald?”

“Don't be like that. I suppose I should have joined You-Know-Who, instead? He'd asked us, you know. I suppose Slughorn keeps in touch with Slug Club alumni, otherwise I have no idea what might have made him think we'd be interested in joining forces with him; but I saw what the Death Eaters did to the Prewetts, Dumbledore showed me, so there was no way we were joining him after that. Sev! Are you alright?”

“Alright? I'm wonderful. I only wish you'd had your little epiphany three months ago, Lily,” Severus said, in a pained voice.

“What? Why?” What difference could three months have made?

He pulled up his left sleeve.

“That's why.”

The colour left Lily's cheeks, the same way it had when she first heard about Dementors. “No. No. It can't be. But didn't we just - James and Sirius lied to me, so I thought they lied about everything, Slytherin and Regulus's family and -” she let out a mirthless laugh - “come on, you're teasing me, _you're_ a sodding half-blood!”

 _Don't I know it,_ Severus told himself.

“What can I tell you, Lily? You said you were an idiot - well, that makes two of us.”

Lily stared at him.

“I suppose you think Dumbledore cared about _me_ enough to warn me not to do it?”

Just as had happened with Severus's trip down the tunnel under the willow, when he had said the words, they suddenly made sense. He suddenly felt human again, and not like a freak who had survived by accident. It all fell into place - he'd been made a fool of, like Lily. The din in his head stopped, and an awful clarity replaced it. He'd dragged Regulus with him, too, and there was absolutely no going back.


	23. Chapter 23

Regulus was not at all pleased with the recent developments. Lily, a Mudblood and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had apparently moved into his flat. He had invited Severus to live there, not _her_ \- he could not overstate how stupid he thought Severus was being. It was hard enough, being stuck at Hogwarts while Severus was in London, without getting this type of news. So what if Lily had decided she didn’t like Potter any more? What right did she have to move herself into _his_ flat? What if she hurt Severus again? What if this was one of Dumbledore's schemes? He was almost ashamed to acknowledge the thought: _What if he is in love with her? No, he loves me, he only loved her as a friend..._

 _I'm of age,_ he told himself. _And if they didn't expel Sirius for his trick, they won't expel me for skivving off._ He decided to return home, at least for a little while, to see what was going on with his own eyes.

He made a point of not knocking on the door to his flat. He walked in on Severus, hard at work on some potion, concentrating so heavily he didn't even notice Regulus walk in. Dark grey vapours emitted from the platinum cauldron Regulus had bought him over a year ago. Regulus watched, silently. He had missed Severus so much, and he had so few opportunities to watch him work, and he always loved it. Whenever Severus was working hard on something, he would poke his cheek with his tongue or glue it to the roof of his mouth, or hum a little - it was so different from how guarded Severus normally was in his expressions and movements. Then, he looked at his watch, put on gloves, and carefully removed three stone-like things from a bag. He dipped them into something that smelled like very strong acid, looked at his watch again, and only then allowed himself a moment's rest. When he looked up, he saw Regulus smiling.

“Reg! What are you doing here?”

“I was worried. Where's the m- where's Evans? What is that?”

“She's not here, and that's the reason she's not here. I can't tell her about this. It's for the Dark Lord.”

Regulus was glad to see Severus had not lost every ounce of sense just yet. “I'm not happy about this -” he started, but Severus signaled him to wait and be quiet. He looked at his watch again and muttered something, then poured whatever he'd dissolved into the cauldron. Dark green vapours rose from it. Severus inhaled the vapours and suddenly looked as though he was on the verge of tears. He took a sip from yet a third cup whose content Regulus recognized - a creamy-looking lilac-coloured potion - Euphoria Elixir - and if Severus did not look euphoric, exactly, he no longer looked anguished.

“It's the Dementor teeth,” Severus explained. “Secret ingredient - so the fumes alone are toxic. I'm only telling you this so that you stay away, I don't think the Dark Lord would want you knowing about this.”

 _Don't let him know you're unfaithful, he does not need this in his mind, it's better that he thinks you will choose the Dark Lord over him,_ Severus told himself. The only thing he was sure of was that he had to brew this potion to perfection, and he finally had. He pointed his wand at the cauldron and muttered a few select spells, and when each one had failed to do anything he only looked more satisfied. The Drink of Despair was ready. He poured it very carefully into a bottle and corked it, still wearing protective gloves.

“So, you were worried?”

“Yes, I was, Severus, I'm not happy with this. I told her you'll accept a letter from her, I didn't think she'd move in - don't you think this is strange?”

 _How am I supposed to explain that I would be going mad here, with or without her?_ Severus thought. At least, since Lily had been in the flat, Severus had not been feeling as paranoid. Case in point - he had not jumped when he’d seen Regulus. But it was undeniable that Regulus had a point.

“Well, of course you're right, but she's left Potter and there's nowhere to go, really, and -” _don't tell him she knows you are Death Eaters and that you hate it -_ “I've just been lonely.”

“So you invited a member of the Order to live here?”

“Stop it, she's not living here, it's just until something happens. And I'm still alive, aren't I? She came here to apologize. I'm the one who invited her to stay.”

“This doesn’t make me feel better at all,” Regulus sighed. _Is this supposed to be encouraging, that this senselessness is coming from him and not from her?_ “Why can’t she stay at her own house? Does this make any sense to you?”

 _He does not understand,_ Severus realized. _I need her here, for myself._

“You have to trust me, it does, Reg.”

“Why?”

“It just does.” _Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him. You know what happened to Rodolphus._ The image of Rodolphus writhing in agony from his own wife’s curses had burned itself into Severus’s retina.

“There’s another thing I wanted to speak with you about,” Regulus continued. He did not know how to approach this - he could barely believe that this question was on his mind at all.

Severus tensed up. _Does he know? He can he know?_

“What is it?” He asked, and he knew he must sound incredibly guilty.

“Evans showed me your hospital file. It says - it says you tried to hang yourself.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Severus was relieved.

Regulus furrowed his brow. _‘That’s it?’ That’s it, he’s asking me? It’s the worst thing that could have happened!_

“Yes,” he said sarcastically, “that’s _it_. I don’t know what you’re so happy about. Why did you do it?”

“It was ages ago - does it matter now?”

“It matters to me! What do you mean, does it matter? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Severus sighed. He remembered it - of course he remembered it. He remembered Regulus’s shock and horror at the sight of his bare chest and back, the ultimate confirmation, he had thought, that the Muggle had ruined him, that love would elude him forever, that shock and horror were the only thing he had to give to anyone, of how beautiful and whole everybody else was, and broken and ugly he was.

“I felt as though I’d lost you, and I couldn’t stand it. It’s my scars, Reg, you remember what it was like.”

Regulus did not feel like this was an adequate explanation, at all. “You tried to kill yourself because I was shocked at your scars? I suppose you expect me to believe that? I’m not that stupid.”

“Yes, I do. That’s what happened. Look, I thought it was because you were repulsed, right? But I was wrong. So that’s it.”

Regulus could not remember when he’d ever been this angry with Severus.

“You hanged yourself - because you thought I thought you were ugly? What in Morgan’s name is that?!”

He couldn’t look at Severus. He buried his head in his hands. “So I should not have been horrified, I take it? I should have figured it was normal, what the Muggle had done to you?”

How was Regulus, who had barely been slapped once, supposed to understand what had gone through Severus’s head, all this time ago? _And even that slap,_ Severus told himself, _was because of you._

“Look, there was nothing you could have done, alright? You didn’t give me my scars. It’s just been a hard time. I’m glad I failed, you know.” Regulus looked up. “You saved my life that night in the hospital. I never tried again - I never wanted to.”

“And you won’t ever, ever, do it again? Because I swear, Severus, if you -”

“I won’t. I promise. I would have made an Unbreakable Vow, but -” Regulus’s face was twisted - “what? It’s a joke, Reg. I won’t.”

Regulus was miserable. “How did you survive? Who took you to the hospital?”

Severus struggled to think, and then he remembered opening his eyes and seeing Dumbledore’s face. “Dumbledore said it was some elf who had found me.”

“Some elf, huh? And what’s Dumbledore got to do with it?”

“He too wanted to know why - wanted to dissuade me from doing it again. Not nearly as helpful as you were, though.”

Both of them remembered that first night שא the Hospital Wing - it was a miracle, both of them knew it, but only now did Regulus understand how miraculous it truly was.

Regulus wanted to know: “Is Lily making it easier for you now?” As far as he was concerned, even if Evans was not necessarily guilty of anything, she was the reason so many bad things had happened, and Regulus simply could not fathom the risk Severus was taking.

“Yes.”

“What if she hurts you again?”

Before Severus could answer, there was a knock on the door.

“Who’s there?” Regulus asked. It was Lily. He opened the door and begrudgingly let her in.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” She asked him.

Slughorn might have called it cheek - Regulus called it audacity. “You’re not Head Girl any more, Evans. Aren’t you supposed to be at Potter’s bedside, and not at my house?”

“Please, Reg,” Severus tried to intervene.

Lily narrowed her eyes at Regulus but thought better of it before she spoke. It had been Regulus, after all, and not her, who was there for Sev these past two years, who had not been played for a fool like she was. She had about ten insults at the ready for Regulus, all courtesy of his brother, but she no longer wanted to have anything to do with his brother.

“I don’t know what I’ll do about James, if you must know,” she informed him flatly. “I can’t look at him right now. He’s supposed to be discharged today, anyway. I can’t face him yet. Please, Regulus, let me stay here, I’m not here for the Order, and I won’t hurt Sev.”

 _She can call him Sev._ Was she lying? Regulus tried, briefly, to read her, but it was his second attempt so he knew absolutely nothing would come of it, anyway. When he looked into her eyes all he saw was the Mudblood who had hurt Severus. Severus, however, seemed to know exactly what Regulus was thinking.

“For what it’s worth, I suppose you can call me that too, if you want,” he said, as placatingly as was possible for him. He still sounded like he was making light of the whole thing, and Regulus could not understand this. _Wasn’t it he who cried about her, who missed her for two years?_

Their discussion was interrupted by violent and angry pounding on the door. “Let me in, Lily, you have to talk to me!”

The three of them looked at each other. Potter had indeed been discharged, and he wasted no time. Severus took his wand out, as did Regulus.

“What the hell are you doing here, James?” Lily shouted through the door. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You have to talk to me, I’m your husband,” he shouted back, “and I’m not leaving until you do.”

She looked at the two people who actually lived there, embarrassed to the core. “I’m so sorry,” she mouthed.

“Open up - or I’m vanishing the door!”

Severus wordlessly cast shield charms on the door and on every window.

“How about you get the hell away from me and we’ll talk when you stop being a liar?” Lily yelled.

“I won’t lie to you,” James said meekly. “Just open the door. Please, Lily.”

“Just do it,” Regulus hissed. _Better that this happens now that I’m here, and can defend Severus if I have to. I also need to know how, exactly, did a member of the Order find out where I live._

Lily opened the door and there was Potter, still injured, but well enough to be furious, and he looked at Severus with disgust.

“So, one fight and you run back to _him_?” He snarled.

“Oh, sod off, James, I didn’t run to anyone, I came here to apologize for what a lying bully _you_ have been.”

“Great, now that you’ve apologized to the man who called you a Mudblood, will you come home? And have a proper conversation with me? Alone?”

“He apologized for that on the day it happened. I’m still waiting for an apology from you.”

“Lily, is this a joke? Fine, I’m sorry I lied about some stupid trick Sirius played on this idiot three years ago. Need I remind you that I’m also the one who saved him?”

Severus looked as though he was about to be sick.

“Saved him - saved him so that you wouldn’t lose your toy! Saved him so that Sirius would not be kicked out of Hogwarts and into Azkaban! Saved him, when you could have transformed already and you didn’t risk anything except being found out! Saved him and then instead of seeing what you’ve become, bragged to the whole school? Fine. Thank you for saving him. Thank you for not letting an innocent person die. I didn’t know you could go about saving a life in such a deplorable way.”

Despite himself, Regulus was impressed.

Lily continued - it seemed that she was truly in her element, giving James a lecture. “You could have been honest with me, at any point, and I would have forgiven you. We’ve been together for a year - you’ve had a whole year - and I would never have come here if you had. I don’t know who you are, James, how do you expect me to return?”

Severus never thought he’d see the day - James Potter looked _humbled._

“What do I have to do so that you’ll consider it?”

Lily thought about it. He was her husband, he deserved a second chance. Maybe Sirius was the bad influence, maybe without him, he would truly be who she believed he was. Sirius had to be out of their lives.

“It’s either me or Sirius, James.”

The color drained from James’s face.

“No,” he said. “Not that. Not that, Lily, you don’t understand. He’s like a brother to me, you can’t make me -”

Regulus found himself suddenly invested in the argument: “I’m very sympathetic to your plight, Potter, believe me.”

Everyone looked at him, puzzled.

“He’s like a brother to me too, if you will, but our brothers don't always make us proud, do they?"

“Only because he isn’t a Pureblood maniac like the lot of you -”

Regulus looked around him, at Severus, Lily, and James, and started laughing. “You think that’s why?! Sirius and my mum could fight about whether the sky is blue. He doesn’t believe in anything except making her as miserable as possible.”

“James,” Lily addressed him quietly - “I have a sister too, a Muggle at that, and you haven’t made much of an effort there, and I forgave you, and Tuney wasn’t even at the wedding. You asked me what you need to do. This is what you need to do.”

Severus would have rubbed his eyes, if he had felt safe enough to do so in front of Potter: Potter looked defeated. He asked for some time to think, and Lily, scornful, said he could have as much time as he needed.

“Before I kick you out of here - how did you know where I live?” Regulus asked.

“Your dear mother took the time to inform Sirius that you had gotten yourself a nicer flat than he has,” James replied. Regulus told himself he would have to fortify the protections on his flat.

“For all I care, tell him it’s a slum. Get out.” Potter looked at him with hate and shut the door behind him.

Regulus realized that at some point during this exchange, he had moved closer to Lily.

“You two have more in common than you think, I suppose,” Severus noted, drily. He’d forgotten about Petunia. “You both have siblings who hate me.”

Both Regulus and Lily rolled their eyes.

“I hope this explains why I can’t stay anywhere else,” Lily said, traces of anger in her voice.

“Yep,” Regulus answered, and stormed off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Severus shrugged and went to make them all some tea. As he boiled the water to the perfect 95 degrees with his wand, it occurred to him that he had somehow managed to conceal his attempt to end his life from both Regulus and the Dark Lord - and he realized what this meant. _You have somehow stumbled on a way to lie to him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and leaving reviews, I love you. The fic is written up to chapter 25 - but due to an unpredictable development, I'm not sure when I'll be able to continue writing, so I'll publish the rest of what I have soon in the hope that I can return to you before long.  
> Thank you for staying with Severus and Regulus and supporting them.


	24. Chapter 24

Lily and Severus had come to a tacit understanding that political matters were off the agenda. He had told her that he was having doubts, that he wished he had not done it, and she believed him, and that was the end of the discussion - except for a single suggestion she had made, that perhaps Dumbledore would be able to help, if Severus would come to him. Severus had blinked, and looked at her, and she had understood.

The Drink of Despair was devilishly hard to brew. Its ingredients were expensive, rare, and dangerous, and it required extreme caution and precision - but Severus knew he was the man for the job. After all, as he reminded himself, he had successfully brewed Veritaserum in his sixth year, in a desperate attempt to override the silencing spell Dumbledore had put on him. For all the doubt that had riddled him, and all the danger harbouring a member of the Order in his house entailed - he was sure of this - he was the man for this job and this job needed to be done.

Dumbledore had made it so that Severus could not tell Lily the truth about Sirius, about what James had saved him from - he had made it so that Severus had lost her, had almost lost Regulus, had almost lost his life. He had made him cover up his own attempted murder. He had made Severus taste such bitter loneliness, such crippling helplessness, all to protect himself and continue to hide his decision to let a werewolf into the castle where children slept, and remain on friendly terms with the Blacks and their Gringotts vaults. Nobody, not even Sirius himself, deserved the deep green potion more than Dumbledore - Sirius deserved only death. Despair was what Dumbledore had caused him - when he could not even tell Lily, who had accused him of being obsessed, who had lectured him about Mulciber's joke that he'd use Dark magic on Mary, when he had choked on the words and found himself compelled to blab about James fancying Lily, when he could not even write down “for the werewolf” in his own potions book, and had been forced to write “for enemies,” when Regulus had not believed him that Sirius had done something really bad, the way he was frustrated and angry with Severus... how much Severus had wanted to tell him the truth... despair was like being an animal trapped among flames - everywhere Severus had turned, from the moment James had pulled his limp body out of the Shrieking Shack, to the moment Regulus had finally accomplished legilimency, traps closed in on him, flames had threatened to swallow him. Anyone who swallowed this drink would relive and reveal their deepest, most shameful, most frightening memories and thoughts, and gradually become more desperately gullible, more helpless. The potion could not be charmed or transfigured, there was no known antidote, and its drinker would be impervious to any other form of magic. There would be no helping Dumbledore. Severus looked at the bottle he had filled and he felt great pride - the Dark Lord had trusted him, and he was about to deliver, above and beyond what anybody else could do.

Even so, he was terrified of facing the Dark Lord now - his doubts had been impossible to quell ever since he'd seen what happened to Rodolphus. _And it's just perfect - he got Cruciated, and he used to sit to the Dark Lord's left - what do you think will happen to you, when he finds out what you've been thinking, when he finds out that you've been living with Lily?_ The irony did not elude him - as long as he could convince himself that he was crazy, he could stand to face his master; but after what had happened to Rodolphus - _what would have happened to Regulus if he had only let something slip_ \- Severus was sure, and the surer he was, the more fearful he grew, and the more fearful he grew, the surer he was - and the higher his own risk became of finding himself at St. Mungo's next to Rodolphus. The Dark Lord’s voice had spoken, directly to Severus’s soul: _All traitors will be caught._

Severus had to deliver the Drink of Despair, however, and waiting any longer would not make it easier - a delay could only incur him the Dark Lord's wrath. He focused on the one permissible thought he had - _Dumbledore will drink this and he will feel what he had done to me_ \- and pressed down on the skull's mouth. Within moments, the Mark on his skin glowed and his arm burned - he had been summoned.

He Apparated to the Death Eaters' new headquarters at the Malfoy Manor, where he had felt more at home, at least, where he did _not_ see Rodolphus writhing in agony. He decided keeping eye contact to an acceptable minimum would be best from now on - that way, it would not seem strange if he'd be forced to so in the future. He knelt on the marble floor before the Dark Lord, Lucius, and Bellatrix for longer than he had to - _do not give him reason to question you._ Dignity was a privilege - it was reserved for those who were safe.

The Dark Lord smiled, and he appeared to be satisfied.

“You have sought an audience with me.”

“Yes, My Lord. I have. I completed the task you have set me.”

“Very good, Severus. And you have put all your considerable talent toward it? You have understood the importance of the task, and you spared no effort?”

“None, My Lord” - Severus looked down as though hiding something - “I have put all my effort into it, I -”

Bellatrix coughed. Severus looked up and into his master's eyes, and he thought about the potion he had indeed brewed to perfection.

“My beautiful warrior, he is telling the truth,” Lord Voldemort told her. Bellatrix appeared vexed, dissatisfied - Lucius seemed very pleased.

“It might be my best work yet, My Lord. It is ready.”

“Very well. Very, very well. Young Severus, I appreciate your discretion, but there is no need to be so careful in present company. You may hand it to me.”

Severus removed the bottle from his bag and handed it over.

The Dark Lord surveyed it carefully, and smiled again. “Excellent,” he whispered. “This is sure to aid me in my battle against my most bitter enemy.” Lucius and Bellatrix gave knowing nods, and Severus only said: “My master's enemy is my enemy, My Lord.”

“Well said, young Severus. If only Bellatrix's husband had felt the same.”

Was the Dark Lord goading her? Bellatrix, who had begged to torture her husband herself? She looked as though she was remembering a harsh lesson. “My Lord!” She cried. “If My Master wills it, I shall kill the filthy drunk at the first chance! I am ashamed that I ever married him, I never should have brought him before y-” the Dark Lord raised his hand and she fell silent. “Bella, Bella, I believe you. You do not need to grovel - the healers at St. Mungo's can tell us tales of the depth of your devotion.”

 _Why must I witness this?_ Severus asked himself.

To his endless gratitude, Lucius coughed.

“You may part, Severus,” the Dark Lord ordered him. “I thank you again. You have done excellent work.”

Severus did not dare to leave as quickly as he wanted to - he bowed respectfully to the three people in the high chairs, so much like thrones, paced his steps, and only when he was out of the manor and, with the albino peacocks, did he loudly exhale. Ever since the last Death Eater meeting, he had been going over every possible line of questioning, endlessly making lists of who knew what, and what would be a plausible explanation for everything he had been hiding, yet when faced with the Dark Lord at last, his mind was strangely empty. He was aware of what he should be feeling, but he did not feel it. It was not pleasant - it was a dull and lonely sensation that dampened even his happiness that Lily had returned, but he had managed to control himself, and not to broadcast his heresy to the Legilimens.

He Apparated back to the flat, and he found that even when the danger had passed, he still could not relax. He told Lily he was not feeling very well and went to hide in the bedroom to think.

***

Lord Voldemort caressed the bottle. It contained seven cups of the Drink of Despair, exactly as he had ordered. He was very pleased.

Now was the time to summon the other recruit Lucius had brought him. The defences Lord Voldemort had designed for his third Horcrux had to be tested, and so did Regulus Black. He pictured his youngest follower's face and pressed down on the mark. Many kilometres away, Regulus's hand burned. Surprised to be summoned when he was supposed to be at school, Regulus Apparated instantly, knelt, and waited.

“Mr. Black,” the Dark Lord said softly, “your assistance is required again. I have been made aware that you have a house elf.”

“Yes, My Lord. Kreacher.” Regulus smiled fondly. “Why does My Lord ask?”

 _How sweet, the boy's affection for that elf._ Lord Voldemort remembered Regulus's own memories, of being comforted by Kreacher, ever since he was a toddler. His insides hardened, suddenly. Nobody had comforted little Tom Riddle. But Tom Riddle was gone, there was only Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort had followers who were as loyal to him as the house elves were to their masters.

“I ask that you bring me your elf and order him to assist me. I have a task that requires an elf's unique qualities.” _Chief among them, they are disposable._

“My Lord, I will be happy - honoured - to serve you myself -” Regulus started, but his master interrupted him. “I am touched, Regulus, but no. Elves possess special magic, and it is that that I have a need for. Malfoy has already given us his home - you cannot expect him to volunteer his elf as well? Worry not - it will be a great honour to you and to Kreacher, to help your master.”

Regulus understood, and promised to obey.

Using Floo powder, he set off to his parents' house, where Kreacher had been living. Everybody knew that one day, soon, Regulus would take Kreacher with him to his flat - but as long as he was still at school, Regulus did not want to remind his parents that his flat was not empty. They resented the fact that a half-blood lived there at all, and they would certainly not appreciate said half-blood helping himself to their elf. This made Regulus miserable, but he reminded himself that Kreacher was happier with the family he had known since he was born, that Grimmauld Place had always been his only home, and that Severus did not need an elf to perform simple household magic. _Kreacher will die of boredom with him anyway._ He greeted his mum, and he greeted his dad - then explained that he had to do something for the Dark Lord, and that he would speak with them in a moment, and went to Kreacher's cupboard. The elf had clearly been sleeping, but he became animated as soon as he saw who it was. “Master Regulus! Kreacher is so happy to see young Regulus! Kreacher has missed him, missed him a lot!”

“I'm happy to see you too! In fact, you're the reason I came, Kreacher. I must ask you to do something for me -”

“Anything Master Regulus wants!”

“Kreacher, you know that in my room I keep pictures and articles about a great man - the Dark Lord. Ever since I was very young, do you remember that? The Dark Lord has honoured me, has accepted me as a follower - cousin Bella too, and cousin Cissy’s husband - and he needs an elf. It will be a great honour for you, too, if you go and serve him, and do everything he asks, and then you will come home, Kreacher. Can you do that? It will make me very happy, and mum as well.”

Kreacher did not like going outside - Regulus knew it - but of course, he agreed instantly.

“Wonderful, Kreacher! I will see you soon and tell you everything about school.”

Long after Regulus and his parents had exhausted every subject of pleasant conversation, Kreacher still had not returned. Regulus was very familiar with the house elves' magic - he grew up around elves, he was never without one, and he could not understand what was taking so long.

When Kreacher finally popped back into the living room, he was shivering, nearly mute, and quite feral. Regulus had never seen Kreacher - or any other elf - in such a state. He could not speak, but only croak, barely audibly: “water... water...”

To his parents' astonishment, Regulus lowered himself to the floor to be near the elf as he gave him water with a spoon. “Serving the elf! What has become of my family?!” Walburga screeched, but Regulus barely heard her, He focused only on steadying his hand enough to give Kreacher water. Finally, Kreacher could speak.

“Kreacher... Kreacher wants to die,” he said. “Kreacher is in great pain. Kreacher had done everything... Everything Master Regulus had asked... and Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him and Master Regulus did not come... Master Regulus hurt Kreacher… Kreacher was confused, Master Regulus sent him there to hurt him, like Master Sirius… but Kreacher is only an elf. I understand.” With that, the elf shut his eyes and did not speak.

Regulus prayed that they still have the Euphoria Elixir, and took Kreacher with him, frantically, to his flat.

“HELP!” He shouted, as soon as the living room materialized around him. With their wands in their hands, Severus and Lily rushed toward him.

“What is it?” Severus asked. “What is Kreacher doing here?!”

“Help me,” Regulus begged. “Look at him - he’s never been like that, all he wants is water, he says I hurt him somehow -”

“Regulus, relax. What happened? Where have you been?”

“The Dark Lord summoned me, he said he needs an elf, I volunteered Kreacher like he’d asked, and he returned to my parents’ house, he wouldn’t let me come near him, he was shaking, and only wanted water, and now he’s like this! Fix him! Do you have the Euphoria Elixir - please tell me we have it -”

Severus summoned the potion and handed it over to Regulus, who was already holding a spoon. He dipped it gently into the elf’s mouth, and the elf woke up, with grinning ear to ear.

“Master Regulus has woken Kreacher up! Maybe he wants to give Kreacher more of that potion in the cave? Kreacher” - the elf got up and made a little dance - “is excited, let’s go back there, let’s go back - Kreacher can show you, and it’ll be a great honour, Master Regulus said!”

“Kreacher, I order you to tell me everything!”

“Yes! Master Regulus wants to hear everything, how Kreacher suffered, Kreacher will tell him!” The elf was nodding excitedly, jumping up and down as he spoke. “Kreacher went to the Dark Lord Master Regulus has always admired and he bowed, and he said he will serve the Dark Lord to bring honour to Master Regulus, and do everything the Dark Lord wants. And the Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave on a boat, and opened the cave wall - are we going? Can we go there now? And there was a basin, and the Dark Lord told Kreacher to drink, and Kreacher drank it, and he saw” - Kreacher giggled as though he had some particularly juicy gossip to share - “Master Sirius, when he was little, ordered Kreacher to punish himself for being a stupid little elf” - Kreacher seemed like he would keel over from laughter - “only in Kreacher’s vision, Master Regulus did not come and save him from Master Sirius, no.” The elf wheezed, and his audience looked appalled. “Why do Master Regulus and his friends look so shocked? Kreacher saw all the times, all the times Master Sirius hurt Kreacher, but he was alone and Master Regulus did not come - let’s go again, Kreacher wants to show you! And then his insides started to burn, and the basin was finally empty, and the Dark Lord placed a locket inside the basin, and Kreacher wanted it to stop - he cried for his Master and Mistress to save him, but the Dark Lord - Regulus’s Master - only laughed, and he said Regulus serves only him - that Regulus doesn’t care - that Regulus wanted Kreacher to die and that now he was going to die - don’t be sad, Master Regulus!” Kreacher still sounded so unnaturally excited. “Kreacher can still die! And Kreacher’s master filled the basin with more of the potion, and he left, and Kreacher was thirsty, as when Master Sirius had ordered him not to drink for two days, and he ran to the lake, and he almost drowned - yes, drowned!” Kreacher announced, as though superbly pleased with himself, and Severus was pacing around the room, and Regulus was openly weeping, and Lily was frozen… “But Master Regulus had ordered Kreacher to come home, so Kreacher has come home.”

Kreacher looked around the room looking disappointed, as though the people he was talking to did not get a very clever joke.

“Reg,” Severus said gently - “he needs to sleep. The Drink of Despair and Euphoria Elixir, in one night - he needs to rest. Tell him to go to sleep.”

“You heard Severus, Kreacher,” Regulus groaned.

“But Kreacher doesn’t want to go to sleep, Kreacher wants to go back, and die - like Master Regulus wants! For his honour, like the Dark Lord said!”

“Kreacher, go to sleep. Sleep until I tell you to wake up. Now.”

Kreacher was mutinous, but he immediately lay on the floor and closed his eyes. Soon enough, his chest rose and fell - he was heavily asleep.

His face still shiny with tears, Regulus faced Severus. “Did you say Drink of Despair? What’s that - how do we fix it? How did you know?”

Severus seemed to shrink before Regulus’s eyes. “I brewed it. You- you watched me do it.”

Regulus stared at Severus with venom. _"You_ brewed it,” he accused him. “Is that why you didn't tell me what it was?”

Severus seemed miserable, and guilty, and betrayed.

“Regulus, you don't understand. He told me - he told me it's for his most bitter enemy! I had no idea -”

“Imagine that,” Regulus said miserably. “Who knew my house elf was so important! Kreacher, the Dark Lord’s most bitter enemy! Severus, come on - tell me the truth.”

 _The truth? He wants the truth - that all this time I thought I was the only one the Dark Lord hadn’t fooled, that I was the only one who realized what he was, and yet he had fooled me into joining -_ and _into brewing this dreadful potion? Does he know what he’s asking of me?_

“Regulus - Regulus, trust me - he said ‘most bitter enemy’, I thought it was Dumbledore! You have got to believe me -”

“And that would have been okay?” Lily interrupted him.

“Shut up, Lily!” Both of them hissed at her.

“How do you know what you brewed is what Kreacher drank?”

“The symptoms fit perfectly. I thought he wanted to extract information out of Dumbledore, to blackmail him with, or… I don’t know! I just wanted Dumbledore to suffer, like he made me suffer!”

“That’s just great - you’re the best brewer in England and he has you poisoning elves! What have I done, Sev?” Regulus seemed inconsolable.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. You didn’t know. He lied to you - he lied to both of us. And it’s not like you had a choice.”

“What do you mean, I didn’t have a choice? I could have - I could have refused! I could have asked more questions, before I sent Kreacher to him!”

“No, Regulus, you had no choice. I wouldn’t have let you. You’ve seen what happened to Dolph - you can’t betray him. He’ll kill you.”

“Oh, please, Dolph deserved it - what did Kreacher do?”

Severus was desperate. “Don’t you see, Reg? The Dark Lord doesn’t care - Dolph made an innocent mistake and he’s still in St. Mungo’s! I understand that he was stupid, but did he deserve what he got?”

Severus did not feel relieved, at all - though these very words had been clamoring to come out, it was only part of what he was dying to say - and couldn’t. Regulus only seemed more angry at this partial truth.

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus! What does Rodoltus have to do with Kreacher? Kreacher didn’t betray us, didn’t sell us out to Dumbledore, didn’t put Death Eaters in danger, didn’t lie about it while the Dark Lord questioned everybody else, he’s just an elf!”

There was no way out of telling the truth now - now that all Severus wanted to do was to keep Regulus safe and obedient, so that the Dark Lord would never go after him....

“Reg, he questioned you first. He thought it was you. And if Dolph had somehow lied to him, he would have tortured you. And he used Kreacher - to test you. If he finds out Kreacher’s alive - if he finds out you care - you’ll be in St. Mungo’s next to Dolph. If you’re lucky. So no, you had no choice.”

“DON’T TELL ME I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!” Regulus bellowed, and Severus shrunk even more. “And don’t tell me you didn’t have a choice either, the Dark Lord’s been good to you, he wouldn’t have forced you -”

_He still thinks being a Black will protect him. He thinks he’s still at Hogwarts._

Severus could not lie anymore, he had to tell Regulus - Regulus and Lily - everything he remembered, everything he knew. _If the alternative is for Regulus to demand an explanation from the Dark Lord himself…_

“Regulus, he’s not been - do you remember being Marked?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“My Marking has gone wrong.” Regulus looked at him with escalating confusion. “I mean, of course it worked” - he looked at his left arm - “but it wasn’t like yours was. Reg, who told you that you have to kneel, that you must only call him ‘My Lord’? How come you know that you must do these things?”

Regulus thought back. His mind was strangely vacant. “Lucius?” He proposed.

“No. It was the Dark Lord. While you were marked. He hypnotized you - or he confunded you, only it wasn’t like being confunded, because he spoke into your mind, and then he made you forget it. And he ordered you to kneel before him and he said all traitors will be caught, and they will be punished, and it will be worse than death - and that’s exactly what has happened.”

“You’re lying!” Regulus said, with a bitter laugh.

“I’m not. I will drink Veritaserum again, if it will make you listen.”

When Severus said ‘Veritaserum’, Regulus felt like he was hit over the head with irony. This was - exactly - what had happened then. Again, Severus had brewed a potion, and again, someone he loved had drank it, and nearly died, and again, it was all Regulus’s fault.

It finally hit Regulus with all its weight: Kreacher did not possess the capacity to lie to his master - every word of it, every syllable, told with twisted glee, was true. The Dark Lord used the Drink of Despair on an elf, and lied to Severus about it. There was only the matter of what Severus had just told him - about his Marking.

“We’ve been Marked in the summer - and you never told me anything?”

“I thought I’d hallucinated it. But then, after what happened to Dolph… you have to believe me.”

_Kreacher thinks I tried to hurt him, like Sirius did… he said it, right before he collapsed - just like Severus did, because of Sirius -_

It was the worst memory of his life, and he was reliving it in the most awful way. Walls closed around Regulus - he began to suffocate, to hyperventilate… _I’ve nearly killed Severus, and I’ve nearly killed Kreacher - all because I didn’t believe Sirius really was that bad, and that the Dark Lord would do anything to harm him… and now he will kill me…_

Regulus began to laugh, a mad laugh. “What are we supposed to do now, Sev?”

“I don’t know,” Severus said, and he was desperate.

“May I speak now?” Lily said, and although Severus could tell she was trying to be understanding, he knew Regulus heard only her harshness. They both stared at her.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? You have to join me. We’ll fight the ‘Dark Lord’ together.”

“Don’t be an idiot Lily, that’s impos-”

“I wouldn’t call anyone else an idiot, Regulus, I’m not the one who became a Death Eater.”

Suddenly, Severus felt immense relief. He cracked a smile and said to her, “there’s something to be said, you know, for being made a fool of by the Dark Lord rather than James Potter.”

Kreacher was still sound asleep on the floor. The three of them shared some Firewhiskey, and - laughing and crying - they knew that Lily was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your reviews really mean so much to me in a difficult time. I am safe, and will return to you soon. Two chapters left to publish until I run out of written material. Love you, though I don't know you.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Echo has inspired every chapter but this one is basically his (really, this entire story is his), so thanks Echo, you're an amazing friend! <3 And thank you, readers, you're the best!

Regulus was overwrought. He knew someone would have to go to the cave and endure what Kreacher had endured to retrieve the locket, and that someone else would have to force that poor person to drink the Drink of Despair, brewed by Severus in the cauldron Regulus himself had bought him, and he could not fathom putting any of them through that, not even Lily, who was out of the question anyway as there was no telling what that potion might do to a fetus (“you let Potter get you up the -” Severus spat at her; “did you think we cuddled the night before he went on that mission?” She retorted miserably. “We’re still practically newly-weds!”)

Severus was equally helpless, equally ashamed of his part in brewing it. He knew exactly how potent it was - he had put every ounce of his hatred toward Dumbledore into brewing it, certain as he was that Dumbledore, not Kreacher, was the enemy for whom it was intended. The prospect of being forced to drink it by Regulus was terrifying, but not as terrifying as the thought of forcing Regulus to drink it himself, and even that was discounting the fact that Kreacher had survived only because Regulus had told him to come home.

They never thought they would be happy to see James Potter. He Apparated outside their flat and makeshift headquarters, and he was adamant to get Lily back. “Open up!” He demanded. “You are still my wife, Lily, and I demand to speak with you!”

The distraction was welcome, and she opened the door. “Well?”

“I’ve come to talk to you. I want you back, Lily. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything. I’ll never lie to you again.”

“Does that mean you will never speak to Sirius again?” She asked hopefully.

“Anything but that, Lily. Please.”

“Not interested.”

“How can I prove myself to you?”

“Unless you are interested in drinking a lot of poison, we’re busy here, James,” she said coldly, and to everyone’s shock, James volunteered himself.

“If it will make you reconsider, I’ll do it.”

Lily was not up to the task of forcing James to drink it, and Severus had no desire to be anywhere alone with Potter (“I will sooner inject myself with live polio,” he said as he left the room, to which Lily reacted by giggling slightly and which Regulus did not understand), and so it came down to James and Regulus. Kreacher Apparated them to the cave. As soon as he saw it he began to whimper, and Regulus ordered him to go home and wait.

Cold sea air whipped at James’s and Regulus’s face. They stepped further away from one another as soon as Kreacher was gone, and faced each other. No one made a sound - only the wind. Regulus gestured at the basin that contained the emerald liquid Severus had brewed to perfection, and he could not help but appreciate the irony.

James has never been one to let his apprehension show, and he took a hearty swig of the stuff and his face immediately contorted in disgust and he could barely swallow. He went from boastful to meek almost as soon as the potion touched his lips.

“She does not love me anymore,” he said, sombre. “Did you see how she looked at me?”

Regulus glared at him and said nothing - he had had enough for one lifetime of listening to people whine about Lily. He could take it from Severus, but not from Potter, and he felt he had yet to see what was so remarkable about her, that anyone would care so much. Wordlessly, and impatiently, he urged James to drink on.

“She is going to pick Snivellus over me, I know she is.” Regulus clenched his fist. “That slimy, filthy half-blood, she is going to stay with him and there is nothing I can do.”

Regulus had had enough of hearing people talking about Severus like that too. “Less talking, more drinking, mate.”

Slowly this time, James took another sip. “I never deserved her… I have been lying, and she found out about what Sirius did, it’s the only reason she agreed to look at me in the first place, she thought I saved him and it was a lie… we thought it was hilarious. I lied to her about everything, we never left him alone, and she never stopped caring, she only got better at hiding it, I could tell…”

Finally, James said something that piqued Regulus’s curiosity. “How can you be sure?”

“She would always leave all of a sudden whenever anybody brought him up. I caught her crying about it. I should have known it was over as soon as she found that bleeding hospital record…”

Other than the encouraging discovery that Lily was not as self-righteous and superior as she looked, this was rapidly becoming dull again. Regulus tipped the goblet into James’s mouth himself.

“He is better than me, and she loved him for who he was, he never needed to lie. I saved him because I thought she’ll like it, and she did, but it was not enough.”

Tears were flowing freely from his eyes.

“I’ve been too much of a bully and she was never going to forget that, so I doubled down, told everyone he was jealous of me, that he was following me around for no reason, and it was the other way around, I knew even then, and we all saw him losing his mind and how he nearly never left the Slytherin Tower anymore, and we told one another he was finally showing his true colors, we told everyone…”’

Regulus forced another mouthful down James’s throat.

“We were thrilled, we’d finally won, we finally managed to really hurt him, we all knew he was the better wizard I think, but we never admitted it out loud.”

Regulus yawned. _This is what the Drink of Despair does? I know he is powerful, I always did, I never lost sleep over it, what is he on about?_

James blinked at him, looking completely innocent and powerless, but all it did was provoke Regulus.

“Really?” He needled him. “You have no idea how powerful he is. Did you know he invented Levicorpus? Did you know he invented the spell I used to defeat you in our last match? Took him an afternoon, he told me.” His tone was haughty, devoid of true interest or empathy. James shrank a little, but the news did not shock him.

“Sirius saw the two of you together, on our map. It drove him mad.”

 _Their map?_ Regulus wondered.

“He borrowed my invisibility cloak, and attacked him in the Hospital Wing. But that was later.”

Pieces came together in Regulus’s mind. _So Sirius was never powerful after all. Imagine._

“After our Defense OWLs, I wanted to get Lily’s attention, and what could have been easier than going after her friend? You understand it, don’t you?”

It struck Regulus that James was looking at him and seeing Sirius, just like Severus used to. He expected support, admiration, and he was not getting it.

“No Potter, I do not understand. I have never attacked anyone to get attention. I would never have done what my brother did, I would never have attempted to kill anyone because he was in my way, I would never have hurt someone helpless.”

Even as he said the words, he knew he was doing exactly that - but James did volunteer, and he deserved it. An image flashed before Regulus’s eyes - how he had accidentally walked in on Severus crying that first time he ever noticed him, how he flinched away from him, and how terrified he was after the hospital wing attack, and now he knew - James had helped Sirius do it, James had given him an invisibility cloak, he had some kind of map they used to tell where people were, and he suddenly hoped the Drink of Despair would never run out.

“I am not him, Potter, I do not understand it. I do not adore you, and to be frank, it’s pathetic how much agony it’s causing you.”

James’s face showed every sign of crashing disappointment. Being denied approval made him whimper.

“Drink up, Potter,” Regulus commanded him, just as he had inadvertently ordered Severus to poison himself with Veritaserum.

“I wanted Lily to notice me, I attacked Snivellus, and it worked… he tried to stop us, but I felt emboldened, how he tried to defend himself, and how pathetic it looked, and I felt so powerful, Regulus, it never stopped being funny, how he tried to threaten us, ‘you, wait,’ but what was he going to do? I was happy, Regulus, and don’t tell me you would not have been, didn’t you attack Sirius for no reason too? Poured juice on his head in the Great Hall?”

“Well, you see, no I did not. Turns out I had a very compelling reason for doing that, Potter, though I did not know that at the time.” Regulus said in a near whisper - Severus’s style was already affecting him. It was not unpleasant. “I have seen what his little trick did to Severus, though not even I could have believed my own brother was capable of doing that, I confess. And this is the brother I was born with, Potter, you chose him, you are choosing him over Lily too, can’t you see that?”

James was panting in distress, unable to even look at the replenishing basin. Even as he had James suffering like that, the injustice of it still stung: Potter had lived an enchanted life, if all the drink could do was to make him see himself for what he was. Regulus knew: If it had been him drinking it, he would have had lived that Veritaserum moment, how glibly he made Severus brew and drink it, or how his relationship with his parents had begun to sour as soon as Sirius left and he realized their love was predicated, first and foremost, on the fact that he was not his brother, or the horror of learning what the Dark Lord had done to Kreacher. Between himself, Lily, and Severus, he had been the luckiest by far, yet even he had faced more struggles than Potter, to whom not being universally adored caused such distress. Regulus could not understand, for the life of him, why Potter had ever noticed Severus, let alone hounded him for 7 years, even after he had Lily, and anger rose in him. He stood up, and towered over James’s cowering figure. “No more,” Potter croaked. “Please, no more.” 

“Oh, shut it,” Regulus snapped, and finally pinched Potter’s nose like a parent force-feeding medicine to a recalcitrant child, and when Potter gasped, Regulus roughly forced the potion down his throat and then put his hand tightly over James’s mouth to prevent him from spitting it out.

“Serves you right,” he spat. “Lying to your wife like that. Disgusting.”

Potter gagged as he swallowed. When Regulus was satisfied that the potion was not coming back up, he let him keep talking.

“Snivellus cut me across the cheek with something, and of course, I cast Levicorpus on him - what was he thinking, what gave him the right to do that - and of course, Lily was mad, and I freed him, and Sirius took over for me - and then he- he did something even I could not dream he’ll do, he called her a mudblood, and she was so hurt she called him Snivellus straight away, and I finally saw my chance - but even that didn’t work, and I could not understand why she still hated me, what she still saw in him-”

“Could it be,” Regulus interjected, despite his better judgment, “that she hated you regardless of how much she liked Severus? Could it be that she hated you for the reasons she said she did?”

James ignored him. “I didn’t know what to do, and I had him hanging in the air, and it was just so easy. I felt awful, I had to feel better, and there he was - it took two seconds, and it was incredible - everybody laughed, the whole school was on my side, except for her -”

Before Regulus could think of what he was doing, he punched James in the face. He deliberated it internally and decided that he refused to feel ashamed of himself. “Not the _whole_ school, Potter. Go on.”

“She still hated me, pretended to, anyway, and he never even wanted her that way, did he? He wanted you - or, you know. Not her. I never had to worry about him at all, and I would have had nothing to lie about, and Lily would have loved me for who I am, and I still would have had her.”

He looked at Regulus again, and Regulus recognized his expression immediately - it was the look of someone who was denied approval for the first time, who could not give it to himself, who could not contain the idea that he had done wrong and that it was not going to be alright, and he saw himself in Potter and he hated everything he saw.

“She never did. She did not love you. As soon as she learned the truth she came to me. Can you appreciate how desperate she must have been, to come to _me_? After everything Sirius must have told her about me? She was devastated and lost and alone because you made her lose her best friend and then lied to her. Do you know how hard we fought, Severus and I, for the truth? He nearly died. He nearly died so he could tell me. And you chose to lie. You’re disgusting, Potter. A Gryffindor, and a coward.”

“I KNOW I AM!” James shouted, his throat already parched. 

The potion had finally begun to deplete. The last mouthful made him sob. “You’re right, I did not deserve her, and I am everything he always said I was, and Sirius… we only made each other worse. Lily thinks he was the bad one now, but it was both of us, we always egged each other on, and there is nothing I can do now to get her back. If I’d been honest, if she had found out from me, maybe, but it’s over. Snivellus won. He’s won and he never even wanted to win. She never loved me. Only you did, Sirius.”

 _Sirius? That must be the delirium, then,_ Regulus thought.

James was overcome with a terrible sense of clarity. Regulus saw it on his face and on his body, he saw his muscles tensing up to jump into the lake, and he acted first, restrained him, and forced him to be still, and yelled at him - “Lily’s pregnant, you idiot. You’re going to leave your child alone just because you felt sad for once in your life?”

James was too strong.

“Let go of me, Padfoot! I’m warning you! I can’t take it anymore!” He hollered, and he made for the lake, and nearly took Regulus down with him. Regulus had to let go, and all he could do was to retrieve the locket lying at the bottom of the basin before the potion could replenish again, and watch. He expected James to swim, but just as Kreacher said, he was too helpless to swim, and greying, bloated hands pulled him underwater.

“Tell Lily I-” he tried to say, but water filled his mouth and he gargled, and he was submerged, and air bubbled up to the surface, and then the water was still again, save for Potter’s glasses. Regulus summoned them, not knowing what for.

He sat on the floor of the cave, shocked, and he did not feel the time passing. He stared at the waxing moon. _If Severus had gone with him, he would have tried to save him. He would have tried to pay his debt. But I don’t owe him anything. It’s the best thing that could have happened._

He said that to himself, but he did not believe it. Eventually, he felt the cool air on his face again, and he heard the wind again, and realized that he had to return, that there was nothing he could do for James now, and he summoned Kreacher, and they Apparated home.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” he whispered, realizing only then that his throat was parched too. “He’s gone.” 

“G… gone? What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”

She knew, but she did not want to know, and fear of what had already happened was making her sound much thicker than she was.

“To the bottom of the lake, I assume,” Regulus said, and Severus cringed internally and reminded himself that tact was never Regulus’s forte. “I salvaged his glasses, Lily. Here.” She looked at them, pale with shock.

“His… his GLASSES? But you couldn’t save HIM?” She shrieked.

“I tried. I tackled him and held him down, but he is strong, you know that. Was. He crawled toward the water, almost took me with him, and if I hadn’t let him go when I did the potion would have replenished and I never would have retrieved the locket.”

He took the locket out of his pocket and put it on the table. “It was not in vain.”

Lily looked at the locket that had claimed her husband’s life. “It’s all my fault,” she croaked. “If I hadn’t told him to go with you, just because I was angry. Oh, god, James…” She burst into sobs, and to Regulus’s shock, Severus got closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Lily, it’s alright,” he said softly. “He didn’t die in vain, and it’s not your fault, he knew what he was doing!”

“No,” she said and gasped for air, “he didn’t!”

She was hyperventilating, her green eyes bloodshot. “I only said he’ll have to drink poison, I didn’t say he will die, and I knew, I heard what you-know-who did to the elf! (“Kreacher,” Regulus corrected her, but she did not hear) I thought… I thought you would save him, Black!”

“I tried, Lily. The only reason I was able to get Kreacher out of there is because house elves are forced to obey. If I could control James I would have brought him back.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU IMPERIUS HIM THEN?!” Lily roared. “ISN’T IT WHAT YOU DEATH EATERS DO?”

Regulus began to stammer, but Severus whispered, softly, but with certainty: “It wouldn’t have worked, Lily. The potion is stronger than the Imperius curse. It’s stronger than anything, anything Regulus could have done. I know, I made it. If Regulus said there was no way to save him, there wasn’t.”

“You did it on purpose!” Lily accused Severus, sounding horrified.

“Lily, listen to yourself. Was I supposed to know Potter will come here and volunteer? If he hadn’t, it would have been me drinking it, or Regulus, do you think I intended it? I brewed the drink on the Dark Lord’s order. I thought he would use it on Dumbledore. None of it worked out like I had planned, Lily, trust me.”

Her chest fell and rose, and the truth sank in: He was gone and it was nobody’s fault. If anyone was guilty, it was her - she told him to volunteer himself. She never thought he’d do it, but he did. Severus saw it in her eyes. He held her face up with two fingers under her chin and a happy thought he immediately suppressed came to him: _you are touching her face just like before… everything_.

“You haven’t done anything wrong. He could have said he’ll stop talking to Sirius, and you would have gone back home.” 

“It would not have mattered,” Regulus interrupted.

Severus and Lily turned their heads to him.

“The moment that drink touched his lips he said he knew it was over, Lily. He knew he lost you, he knew you chose Severus. He still used that lovely nickname he used to call him, too. And the last thing he said to me, when he thought I was Sirius, was that you never loved him, because you never knew him - only Sirius loved him. He would have chosen him because of that.” Devastation distorted Lily’s features. “But he loved you,” Regulus continued. “Those were his last words.” Regulus remembered perfectly well that in actual fact, James went underwater before he could say it, but he allowed himself to assume. “I think it’s why he volunteered. He couldn’t choose you and he couldn’t live without you.”

Lily nodded stiffly.

“I knew we were finished,” she whispered. “It’s not that. He didn’t… he didn’t deserve to die like that… you don’t know what he was like with me, and how he fought for the Order,” she wiped her eyes. “He was good to me, and we had so much fun, and he was so brave - and my child won’t have a father…”

It took every ounce of self-control for Severus not to ask Lily what did _he_ deserve, and if she had rather he had drunk the potion instead, and relived everything James did to him, and to not express is extreme skepticism that her happiness would have lasted, given that he was bound to show her his true colors sooner or later. Most of all, he wondered how Lily, who knew the Muggle, could be upset at all that her child was spared having a brute for a father. Severus held his tongue. Acid burned a hole in his stomach; Lily expected him to grieve, he expected _himself_ to be kind and patient, and generous with his sympathy, to extend it to the one who never extended it to him, who saved his life only so that he could continue to have his fun with him. _Nobody would have expected Potter to mourn you. He would have thrown a party._ Severus excused himself to go make everyone some tea (“Kreacher can do it,” Regulus offered, but Severus refused - “I am not completely useless around a stove without an elf, thanks” - it was an excuse to be alone for a few moments, to be alone and remember Potter for who he really was: _the one who had everything, but wanted what little I had, too - who never worked hard for anything, whose first and only idea was to get her to hate me, and it worked - thank you for being lying scum, Potter._ His hands were on the edges of the sink, and he faced the wall, to not risk anyone seeing him. Without noticing, he clutched at his robe as if keeping it from flapping in the wind, and his face was numb. _Let her mourn him in peace, Snivelly_ , he told himself. _It will be the last indignity you ever suffer at his hands._


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry I left you for so long, and I don't know when I'll publish again, but in the meanwhile, I got this - it's short, but I hope you'll like it. I'm writing again, in the hope that I can make an excellent story for you. Know that your comments have been super-helpful in a rough time. Thank you so much for reading.

Days had gone by, and Lily realized that she had to start planning James’s funeral, just as she had feared she would have to do before everything fell apart around her.

Plan the funeral - and tell his friends. She felt ridiculous at how much she resented having to do it. _This is war, how much of a child are you? Did you expect never to hear or deliver bad news?_ At the same time, she couldn’t help but to feel sorry for herself. _I’m the widow here, and absolutely no one will care, except that bastard Sirius, and now I need to go tell him and watch him cry, when it all happened because of him?_

Waiting any longer would not have made it any easier. Sirius didn’t live far and she took the Underground to clear her mind. It occurred to her that both Evans girls now lived in London, even though they were as distant as they ever were.

She knocked on the door, and to her surprise, Remus was there with him. _Saves me another trip_ , she told herself.

“Well! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Sirius greeted her. “Come here to apologize, I assume?”

Her face hardened. “Not quite, Sirius. Listen, there’s something I need to -”

“You’ve got some nerve, Lily. Prongs and I are a package deal - you can’t come between us, especially not after you’ve run off to live with Snivelly the first time James didn’t do everything you wanted him to. “

Lily went white as she always did when she was furious - everything that had happened, happened because of Sirius’s little trick, and here he was, blaming her. Before she could speak, Sirius continued his diatribe.

“But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? You never loved him, you always had a problem with him, 'ooooh, that map should be illegal, ooooh, you have to register' - what did you ever like about him, Lily? His money? If you’d really loved him, you wouldn’t have made him choose. I never did, I knew he loved you” - he continued without pause - “though I can’t say I understand why.”

 _I made Severus choose - I chose for him!_ Lily thought - _because of you. And I thought I was helping him see, and I was the one who was blind - and now look at him._

“Are you done?” She asked, and she never thought she would feel so cold toward someone who was about to get the worst news of his life. Sirius nodded, his contempt apparent.

“What I came here to say, Sirius, is that James has died. He chose you, over me, wouldn’t hear a word against you. He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

Sirius was too stunned to say anything. It was Remus who asked her what had happened.

“Mission for the Order,” she improvised. “Top secret.” _So secret, that even Dumbledore doesn’t know about it. But he did do something to defeat You-Know-Who… even if James only did it to try to win her back._

Remus seemed skeptical - “Are you sure? Did you see him? How do you know?”

The thought of James being dragged underwater by dead hands briefly overwhelmed her. “I know,” she said. “There’s nothing left of him to bury. He - he accomplished his task. It was not in vain. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you’re SORRY!” Sirius yelled. “You’re not sorry! You and your greasy little friend must have laughed about it for hours, it’s what he wanted, I’m sure! This is very fishy, Lily, don’t think for a moment I believe a word you -”

“Listen to me, you idiot,” Lily cut him off. “I’m pregnant. Do you think I planned to be a widow at the ripe old age of 19? I’m carrying his child, so how is that for loving him? I only came here because he would want you at his funeral, Sirius. I don’t give a damn what you think about me.”

In Lily’s opinion, she was being exceedingly kind, in not telling him it was all his bloody fault.

Suddenly, she heard a horrible noise, like bones cracking. Remus began to sprout fur. “PADFOOT!” He screamed, though Sirius was too shocked to react. “Lily, get out of here!” Remus ordered her, and his voice was different, low like a growl. “PADFOOT!”

She saw Remus’s teeth growing into fangs, his hands transforming into front legs. A wolf’s tail erupted out of his back, and she escaped at the last second, slamming the door behind her. Panting heavily, she heard a roar, and then a scream of pain, and then two howls, growing fainter as she ran out into the moonlit street.

Though she had not been in the room, images flashed through her mind as though she had seen it happen - frozen in his shock, Sirius sat there, defenseless, and he did not transform into a dog, not fast enough in any case, and the werewolf jumped. Or perhaps Sirius had tried to run, but the werewolf grabbed him by the leg, and immobilized him with the full weight of a predator - or maybe he did not believe Remus would really bite him, or his magic had weakened because he was still too grief-stricken. However it had happened, Remus opened his werewolf mouth and exposed his fangs, closed his jaws on Sirius, broke his skin and sunk his teeth into Sirius’s flesh, and the claws mauled Sirius, and the werewolf had only enough restraint to not kill, to not eat his friend alive - there must have been blood everywhere. However it had happened, it had happened.

When Lily found herself back at the flat, she could not remember how she got there. She must have travelled by the Tube again, but all she remembered was her escape from the room where Sirius was bitten, and the visions - as real as memories - of the bite. When Regulus opened the door, she was even surprised to see that he was as healthy as she had left him - in her mind, a man who looked a lot like Regulus had just been ravaged, had just transformed for the first time, his bones had just become deformed and his skin had stretched and thickened around them, his mind had involuntarily gone savage, feral, and lost all trace of humanity, and the blood in his veins had become toxic. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that Sirius did not die - he was only overcome by a force much stronger than himself, and that he’d be forced to relive this moment - of hearing of James’s death - every month, for the rest of his life.


	27. Chapter 27

Regulus is ten years old and he is sad and disappointed. He had so hoped to go meet his aunt and uncle and cousins, to celebrate Christmas with the extended Black family, and now - thanks to his older brother, of course - it does not look like they will be going anywhere.

“I don't want to go, and I'm not going!” Sirius is shouting, stomping his feet, and spilling Floo Powder all over the living room floor. “This is stupid!”

“You are going, and you will behave yourself in front of your aunt and uncle, you disgrace to the name of wizard!” Their mother is shouting back.

Even his father is getting involved: “If you start behaving yourself right now, we might not punish you further than making you clean up!”

Sirius grabs a handful of Floo Powder, runs into the fireplace, and shouts “Diago-”, and then their mother grabs him and pulls him out and gets dirt all over herself.

“Why can't you be more like your brother?! Look at him - he's been ready for half an hour!”

Sirius is looking at Regulus, and he is angry. “Because Regulus is a stupid and ugly little git,” he says, while looking directly at Regulus, “and an idiot who has to do whatever I tell him because I'm the oldest!” He keeps talking, and he gets louder and louder. “He's probably a Squib too!”

Sirius has already gotten his letter and he has been showing off at every chance. “I'm not a Squib!” Regulus is about to cry. “So you admit that you're stupid and ugly and an idiot?” Sirius retorts in triumph.

“I'm not! I'm not!” Hot tears are running down Regulus's face now - he's humiliated. _At least Sirius will be out of here next year,_ he's thinking.

“Yes you are, yes you are, yes you are!” Sirius is shouting, and he is advancing on his little brother, and their mother is screaming again, and her whole face is contorted: “The House of Black has never produced a Squib!”

“Yes it did! Regulus is a Squib!” Sirius yells with increasing satisfaction. Regulus _knew_ they were not going to go over to his aunt and uncle's. He is climbing up the stairs and nobody is noticing him. The best place to go when they're fighting is in dad's study - the books muffle the screaming.

Regulus pulls out a book from the top shelf with his mind. _I'm not a Squib_ , he thinks to himself. He reads about a wizard whose name was Harpo the Foul, who had encased his soul in an object so that he could not be killed. There is a passage there that Regulus doesn't understand. His parents are shouting even harder, and despite not following the book, Regulus is concentrating very hard, so as to not hear them. “The Horcrux cannot be physically destroyed, and ordinary magic cannot affect it. It must be destroyed beyond physical or magical repair, or else its maker cannot die. Only the most powerful Dark Magic can destroy a Horcrux.” _What does that mean?_ Regulus asks himself. He doesn't know what it means, but keeps reading anyway. Then, Kreacher pops into the room.

“This is not a proper book for young Regulus,” the elf says. “Regulus is only a child - he should not be reading this.”

“I don't care,” the child says, and his eyes and nose are still red. He hates being the youngest, he hates having Sirius for a brother.

“Regulus is not a Squib, he will be a very strong wizard, he is a good boy, he will make Mistress Black proud, Kreacher can tell!” Regulus brightens a little, and he puts the book away and never gives it another thought. Only when he will be too sleepy to control his thoughts, will he remember that he has ever read such a thing, about a wizard who put part of his soul in an object that could not be destroyed.

When the fight ends, mum and dad go look for Regulus, and they don’t even mind that he snuck up to the study, and they praise him for being a good son, the pride of the family, and they make sure to say within Sirius's earshot that Regulus is nothing like him, that he understands what it means to be a Black, like they always do. Regulus only smiles and he doesn't know what he did, besides not causing trouble. He wishes his parents would tell him that, even if Sirius ever behaved himself. The more Sirius misbehaves, the more they lavish Regulus with presents and praise, and this infuriates Sirius, who takes it out on Regulus, and worse - on Kreacher, and it keeps getting worse and worse. He cannot wait for his brother to go to Hogwarts already.

***

The locket had not responded to anything they had tried to do to it, not even when all three of them cast their most powerful Reducto curse at the same time. It was indestructible, and yet it had to be placed in the middle of a lake, in a cave that was only reachable by magic, and was protected by an army of Inferi and a whole bottle of the Drink of Despair. It could be only one thing.

“I know what this is,” Regulus said, suddenly.

Severus and Lily stared at him. “It's a Horcrux,” he said.

“A what?” Lily asked, and even Severus was confused.

“A Horcrux, I read about them, um, once. They contain a fragment of a soul, so the maker cannot be killed. That’s his most bitter enemy - it’s death!”

“That's impossible,” Lily said, although she had gone a little pale. “Everyone must die.”

“Not him,” Regulus said darkly. He had read about Horcruxes, but his child mind never realized they were real, that it was in the realm of magical possibility, that anyone could be so terrible as to protect themselves against death by committing murder - destroying their own soul, to become immortal.

“You make them by committing murder,” Regulus added. “I wonder who has had to die for this.”

“Well, he's killed so many people by now, it could be anyone -” Lily said.

“It has to be murder without motive - it has to be for pleasure, or it won't split the soul. Some innocent had to die for this, and give their life - for the Dark Lord to be immortal.” Regulus hadn’t realized he had memorized the words he had read all this time ago. _I must have really wanted to get away from the fighting,_ he told himself. Only now did he understand what he had read - how terrible it was, what Kreacher had meant.

 _He didn't make us take a vow because he cannot be killed,_ Severus realized. _He can afford to play games and hunt traitors down._ If Regulus was right - and Severus believed he was - whom had they knelt before, whom had they now resolved to fight? Could it be done at all?

“We have to take this to Dumbledore,” Lily announced. “People in the Order are fighting against him and now you're telling me that he can't die -”

“I'm not taking anything to anyone,” Severus protested. “And neither is Regulus, and neither are you. We'll be killed instantly, if we're lucky. And Dumbledore will want to know where you got this from.”

“Sev, I'm going. He's going to start wondering about James at some point, what am I meant to tell him? He knows he didn't actually send him on a secret mission, and Sirius will start sniffing -”

“And I'll bet his sense of smell is much better than it was,” Severus interrupted, remembering that Sirius was, after all, part canine now. “Fine. You go. But you can't mention us.”

Lily was not sure how she would avoid it, but she promised she would. _This is for the best. Dumbledore has to know,_ she told herself.

***

Lily decided that she wouldn’t tell Albus what she thought she was bringing him. _He might have another theory,_ she thought. _Something not quite so hopeless._

The closer she got to Albus's office, the more the locket seemed to struggle - absurdly, Lily felt like it was scared. It did not want to meet Albus, it shook and resisted as though something was trapped in there, and was helplessly being dragged along to its doom.

“Lily!” Albus exclaimed. “I hope everything is well! How is James doing? Well on his way to a full recovery, I hope?”

Immediately, Lily started crying. Finally, she was alone with someone who didn't despise James _and_ who didn't try to kill Severus - someone who could recognize that she had lost something, and that it hurt, even if she wasn't sure she wanted it any more. But she had to keep her promise and not tell Albus how James ended up poisoning himself to death.

“James died - I can't tell you how it all happened but it's the truth - he died to get this.” She struggled to put the locket on the table between her and Albus. “You-Know-Who was guarding this very heavily and James died to retrieve it.”

The locket seemed to want to get away from Albus, who could not touch it, but he recognized it. He had seen it before on his former student, Tom Riddle. This indeed belonged once to Lord Voldemort. Lily had somehow made a difference in the losing war.

Very few people knew that Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort were one and the same. Lord Voldemort himself had obscured his, and Albus had long decided to play along, since Tom Riddle was remembered much too fondly, as the student who had found the monster who slaughtered Myrtle Warren and saved the school. Only Albus knew the truth, and he could never prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and a special thank you to my amazing beta and editor who shall remain nameless <3 Guys: Is it cool to do a reader survey on this site?


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for adding a chapter out of order - I only wrote this yesterday! I admit this makes the sequence a bit wonky, so I tried to make the timeline clear in the text itself, in the hope that I'll be able to fix the issues this creates in the future, for future readers to benefit from. I hope you enjoy, and there's more story coming.  
> As usual, I thank you for reading, leaving Kudoz, and reviewing - it means the world to me.  
> The proper sequence is: Sirius is bitten > First part of this chapter > Lily meets with Dumbledore > Second part of this chapter (after the "***"). I won't blame you if you think it's dreadful, but here we are - since I'm planning a payoff for this, I don't really have a choice :))))

When the full moon set, after Sirius had been bitten... 

Remus came to on the cold floor, sore and shivering. It was his favorite time of the month - the furthest point away from the next time that would surely come. He was used to his ritual, the words he had always told himself before he opened his eyes and started the countdown to the next full moon. _It’s over. You’ve got your friends, and you didn’t hurt anybody._

He said it to himself, automatically, because he always had. But this time was different.

They finally knew now where James had gone - they got their explanation at the worst possible moment. Remus had always counted on Prongs, who always came, even after school had ended, and on Padfoot, who always went everywhere Prongs went. When Padfoot showed up by himself, Remus truly felt it for the first time, the James-shaped absence. Remus could tell Sirius only came in the hope that James would show up, finally, but he thanked him anyway.

 _You shouldn’t take it for granted that they’re still coming at all_ , he told himself. Out of school, his condition was no longer an excuse to sneak out at night, so where was the fun in that for the others?

Then, Lily showed up.

Remus was afraid to open his eyes. He knew he would find confirmation that his greatest fear had come true, but there was no avoiding it forever. He could still remember how brutal the first transformation had been, and he did not envy Sirius. But what worried him even more was how good it had felt to finally give in to the wolf.

The wolf was finally sated. It had finally tasted another’s blood. Remus had always felt so alone with his disease - and now he’d truly made a friend. What a sick, sick thought it was. _You always knew you were going to do that in the end,_ the wolf told him. A long time ago, he had dubbed this voice _the wolf_. Though, for all but two days of every month, he was normal, the wolf was always there. _All those trips to Hogsmeade - don’t tell yourself it was an accident, a coincidence, how you kept going back out._ His furry little problem had just gotten bigger. _Do you remember how part of you wished Prongs hadn’t saved Snape? How you wanted, just once, to know what it would be like?_

He finally opened his eyes and saw Sirius was asleep, or rather passed out, sprawled in an unnatural position. _You should have killed him. It might have been your last chance. Azkaban is next, or death._

What had been most worrying was how eloquent the wolf had gotten, considering that in his transformed state, Remus couldn’t talk.

All these years of self-imposed normalcy, even tameness, all these years of lying had become undone in a few moments - a few brief, horrible, thoughtless, delicious, glorious, ecstatic moments.

Sirius moved a little and before he regained his consciousness, he screamed. Remus remembered what it was like to wake up to the sound of your own screaming.

“James is dead!” Sirius bawled. “What am I going to do, Moony?”

 _Sirius doesn’t understand - he’s got bigger problems - he needs to start covering up for himself every month, he needs to start acting like the last person anyone would suspect of being a blood thirsty, vicious predator that would not rest until it has pinned someone down, exposed their tender, pathetic human flesh, and tore it with its teeth. Like you._ He always hated the way the wolf would hijack his thoughts mid-sentence.

The wolf’s memories used to evoke only the hollow satisfaction of knowing no one was harmed. But now he was truly satisfied. He felt it like a warm current running through his entire body. _No, Remus_ , the man said. _Be kind, be gentle, be good._

“I know, Padfoot. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius stared at him.

“My brother… my brother is dead…” he croaked. “Why? He is barely 19!”

“Sirius, you need help,” Remus prodded.

“You need to take something for pain and you need to talk to Dumbledore, to see what you can -”

“Shut up about Dumbledore or I’ll kill you, Moony,” Sirius warned him, and he looked like he meant it.

Remus blinked.

“James would have wanted you to -”

“Don’t talk to me about him!” Sirius growled. He was scary, nearly fanatical. He did not appear to give a damn about having been bitten. _But of course, what would he know, to him, it has always been nothing but fun. Don’t be bitter now,_ the human said.

“That bitch did it,” Sirius said.

“James told me - she left because of Snivy. He talked her into it, that ungrateful little…”

Remus listened inattentively as Sirius talked himself into a rage.

_I need Dumbledore._

The memory of his first transformation with his friends proved ineffective, as had the memory of being named prefect.

 _Getting my letter… they are working on a cure…_ he cast his Patronus to tell Dumbledore he had to meet with him.

 _Don’t try to deny it’s the real you_ , the wolf said, as it always had. Sirius looked at him with outrage, as though the ability to cast a Patronus at this moment was personally offensive to him.

“Got over Prongs fast, haven’t we? After everything he did for you?”

“No, Padfoot. It’s not like that. I’m just used to it. You’ll understand in time.”

“If I ever understand, kill me.”

Remus could not argue with that. Sirius would never understand - Sirius never understood why James had saved Severus, he never understood why Remus was upset. _He would never understand how I could cast a Patronus even though I’m sad and horrified and hopeless, but you cast them to shield against Dementors, don’t you? Otherwise, what’s the point?_

***

It was fortunate for Albus that the full moon lasted three days. He had already met with Lily by the time Remus had come, he was already aware of the apparent disappearance of James Potter. When Remus came to him with a new problem, he also presented a solution.

“I have three problems, Remus,” Dumbledore said patiently.

“James had disappeared without a trace, but we both know he died on a mission for the Order. He won’t return. My second problem is you - the unregistered werewolf whom I have let into my school, and have covered for - no, don’t thank me, your work for the Order is payment enough.

My third problem is Sirius. I don’t expect that he’ll be content with the protections I have put in place for you, not without his friend, no matter how far my protections can extend to him.”

“He doesn’t understand it yet,” Remus explained on behalf of his friend. “He thinks it’s a joke. James used to call it my ‘furry little problem.’”

 _Your furry little problem. So kind of him to call it that, and so ignorant._ It always made Remus feel so alone, when his friends insisted he was like them, encouraged him to let loose, even, to be less of a teacher’s pet and more of a wild animal like them.

_Goes to show them. I never wanted to bite anyone, not even him, especially not him._

“I’ve covered for Sirius before, surely you remember that,” Dumbledore said gently, taking Remus out of his reverie.

The wolf remembered the enticing scent of the quarry that had wandered into its cage and was snatched away from him. The man bowed his head in shame. _How you fantasized about something like that happening again - to kill, and not be guilty. It’s why you forgave Sirius, admit it._

“If the people at the Prophet got wind of this, what do you think they would make of it?”

Remus could not understand how that rag was relevant.

“One James Potter, gone without a trace. One werewolf everyone is going to find out about, and one Remus Lupin, whom I must continue to protect, or I won’t be able to protect this school from Voldemort. Remus, we are going to tell them the story they would have come up with anyway, if left to their own devices.”

Remus looked at him, puzzled.

“Sirius had been turned by an unknown werewolf and he bit, killed, and ate James Potter.”

Remus could not understand how Dumbledore could have the presence of mind to make such horrible jokes.

“I’m afraid I’m not joking, Remus.”

“But you can’t! It’s my fault!”

“No Remus, it’s not. It’s nobody’s fault. You did what you could.”

The wolf knew this was false. The wolf could smell lies. The man merely cowed under Dumbledore’s gaze.

“But he’ll go straight to Azkaban, and he didn’t - he would never, you know him!”

“No, he wouldn’t - not to James. But he did not make it his concern to protect you, and he knew how far I’ve gone to protect you. If his plan had worked, what do you think would have happened to you? A student disappearing on the full moon would have been impossible to explain. If you can’t control him, and you can’t, he will expose himself as well as you. Can I count on your cooperation?”

Remus was horrified, but he nodded, knowing he would regret it for the rest of his life.

A cell in Azkaban was waiting to be filled. _It’s either him or me. And it’s not so bad - Azkaban won’t hold him, after all._


	29. Chapter 29

Albus Dumbledore was an extraordinarily clever man who knew many things, but there was one thing he had always known more acutely than anything else: It was lonely at the top.

It was lonelier still when, instead of travelling through Europe with Doge like he had planned to, he was suddenly saddled with a task befitting those much less clever than he - taking care of little Ariana, after his mother had suddenly died. He resented it, he longed for freedom, longed to get far away from Godric’s Hollow, from singing stupid songs to his sister, from his brother who mocked him for not knowing how to calm her down. “I guess they don’t teach that in NEWT Transfiguration classes,” Ab used to taunt him - Ab, who had barely passed his OWL, whose grand ambition had been to open a pub. _No wonder he doesn’t mind being stuck here,_ Dumbledore used to think to himself. _He doesn’t have the imagination for doing anything else._

When Gellert came, it was like finding a unicorn in your own backyard. Albus fell head over heels instantly. Gellert was as gifted as Albus was, passionate, playful - and he had ideas, good ideas - ideas that could solve all of Albus’s problems. They would become Masters of Death, and rule the world together, and Ariana could be set free, with the Statute of Secrecy overturned, and with the Muggles in their rightful place.

Even after everything that had happened, the memories of his time with Gellert had remained his fondest. There was an inkling of hope in Albus’s heart that Gellert still felt the same, even from his cell in Nurmengard. With his sister dead, his brother estranged, and the love of his love imprisoned, Albus had resigned himself to a life of loneliness a long time ago. He had learned his lesson, in the hardest way.

When he had first met young Tom Riddle, he had not been fooled - the young wizard had been caught off guard, and in his surprise, he had shown Albus his true colors. Albus had failed, again, to protect the children who were his wards, and again, the guilty party had eluded justice - Tom Riddle had persuaded everyone that it was Rubeus Hagrid, and Hogwarts had been saved from closing, and everyone had breathed a sigh of relief - except Hagrid, Albus, and Myrtle Warren, who had breathed no more.

Albus knew he would have to defeat two Dark wizards with a murderous nature and ambitions of tyranny in his lifetime. He knew that he alone had realized what Tom Riddle was, and he lied to himself that he was staying in Hogwarts to protect the children with his person, exactly as he’d failed to do with Ariana - the truth was that he knew he was unworthy of power, and worse - that the Daily Prophet would easily dig up the truth about him and his family if he dared to go anywhere near the Ministry.

Albus never poured the memory of the three-way duel that had ended in his sister’s death into the Pensieve - he could not bear the thought of receiving confirmation that it was he who had dealt the fatal blow. In the intervening years, however, he grew more and more certain that it was he who had dealt it indeed - the evidence that his soul was not unblemished continued to pile up. The boy who wanted to rule the world and felt disdain for his humble brother now envied him - Ab had lived without regrets, having to choose only between vendors of mead. Albus was not the leader he had wanted to be - he was a part of a grand design, the part tasked with discerning between different shades of evil, and he was sure that no one other than him was better suited for this. He could not even say that his soul had become broken in a single stroke - it was a series of decisions that chipped away at it, and remorse was futile in mending it as he knew he would have to make these decisions again. He knew his actions were defensible only in light of what he was trying to prevent, he knew he was choosing the lesser of two evils - but he was still choosing an evil, however he had put it.

Albus had witnessed the rise of Lord Voldemort - instantly recognizable to him and to no one else as Tom Riddle - and the Ministry’s helplessness to stop it, and he’d known that he had to step up - even if it had meant circumventing the Ministry and forming a semi-legal vigilante group - even if it had meant recruiting students out of school, even if it had meant letting a student who had demonstrated a capacity for murder at sixteen, just like Tom Riddle, get away with it, so that he and his friends could be recruited into the Order. He did not have time to be disgusted with himself at the height of the war - if young Severus rightly felt he was the victim of a great injustice, that his life was worthless, he was right to feel that way. But Albus needed a werewolf who would be indebted to him, he needed the Potters’ influence and that wonderful cloak of theirs, he had plans for the ruthless Sirius Black. He remembered how he had lied to Severus, that he had covered up that crime for money. _Only you, Albus,_ he told himself. _Only you could say something so abhorrent to cover up for something even more abhorrent._ When he had named Potter head boy, largely for having saved Severus, he reminded himself uncannily of his predecessor who had named Riddle head boy, for having discovered Rubeus’s monster and saving the school. Only Armando was ignorant and innocent, and Albus was neither.

Albus knew he was - again and again and again - failing to protect his wards, in the interest of the greater good, and his only consolation was that it was a different greater good, this time around. Lord Voldemort had to be stopped.

The situation had been steadily growing more desperate - he was getting accustomed to losing members of his order, to watching the students who grew up before his eyes get slaughtered, but there was no getting used to the thought that he was losing, that Tom Riddle, who had tormented the children in the orphanage, was well on his way to victory.

***

“Put that locket away, there is no need to torment it any further. I understand that it doesn't want me keeping too close an eye on it,” Albus instructed Lily. “It has all the markings of Dark Magic,” he added. “Very dark, and very advanced. And the letter S - I believe this once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself.”

Lily said nothing.

“Should I decide that I need to know how you really got this, I could find out instantly. Surely you realize this.”

Lily remained silent for a little while. She knew she was powerless to stop anything Dumbledore might try to do to get the information out of her.

“I wouldn’t have warned you that I might do that, if I’d intended to. You came to me, with this, and this is very valuable information. I thank you - and if you need to keep this information private, I won’t try to extract it out of you. I believe you - this is Lord Voldemort’s.”

Lily remained silent, and Dumbledore sighed.

“Lily, do you know who Tom Riddle was?”

Not long after, Lily left Albus’s office with the knowledge that You-Know-Who had once been a student at Hogwarts, and a member of the Slug Club, like her, and that Horace had loved him, and was a mentor of sorts to him. “I suspect that I know what this is,” Albus had said to her, and the gravity of his tone confirmed her worst suspicions. “I certainly did not teach Tom about this kind of magic. I suggest that you pay a visit to your old Potions Master, Lily. He will be thrilled, and I am sure his favorite student will be able to get more information out of him than I ever could.”

Lily had hoped Dumbledore would be able to put forward a theory that could make the situation seem less hopeless - and she left Slughorn’s office with a box of chocolate (“let you walk out of here empty-handed, and you just widowed! I won’t hear of it!”) and the knowledge that Tom Riddle had once questioned Horace about Horcruxes, plural. Seven, to be exact. She had resigned herself to feeling nauseous all the time - but then again, she _was_ pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I abandoned all hope of publishing on a schedule, I'll just publish chapters as they come, and hope for the best! As promised - reader survey: Do you feel including the prophecy in this fic could be interesting, or will it weigh the plot down? I feel, personally, that the plot is already a bit cluttered and all over the place, but there might be interesting ways to incorporate the famous prophecy into the story after all - so help me decide! Also, throw wizardy and witchy names my way because I might have uses for one-off characters. As always, you're the best readers in the world.  
> Last but not least, my friend, muse, and lore advisor echomcload wrote me a one-shot as a gift, and it's lovely, so go read it at https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979376 (Snegulus shippers will enjoy it).


	30. Chapter 30

Tom Riddle was truly one of a kind - cleverer, better-looking, more well-spoken than everybody else, but all these things had merely put him above the Muggles. Tom Riddle had always been extraordinary, even for a wizard. If anybody could conquer death, it was him. Tom Riddle had long ago put two and two together - the gods the non-magical used to worship were simply wizards, wizards who had walked among them before the Statute of Secrecy was enacted. But wizards had given up on their power, or refused to use it. Wizardkind had embraced mediocrity in the interest of protecting Muggles and children of Muggles. It was not surprising to learn that Slytherin had ultimately left the school that he had founded, and in Tom’s opinion, it showed. Tom knew exactly who would restore the wizards’ rightful place - him, king among kings, and when he gained immortality, he would become a god. But such ideas were not presentable to polite society - “do I look a murderer to you?” Professor Slughorn had asked him, shocked, forgetting that only those who were going to die had any need to protect their soul. Slughorn, who was willing to break the law of man for candied pineapple, would not break the law of nature and magic for immortality and domination. Such was the state of the Slytherin House. Tom Riddle was obsessed with the future - he was adamant that he would not miss a second of it, he would live forever - but the past was equally important, and it belonged to him as well. His research had led him to the knowledge that his ancestor had been the founder of his house, and it was, again, the perfect fit. He documented all of his ideas in his journal. The diary seemed a very mundane, unworthy vessel for his soul - but it was not to be the only one, merely the first. Only Lord Voldemort had the strength it would take to weaponize part of his own soul - only he was willing to take the steps, and only he would get to the destination.

He rewarded Lucius with his old diary, just as he had rewarded Bella with the Cup of Hufflepuff, had permitted her to store part of himself in her vault. Lucius did not know what it was, but he knew what it could do: Tom Riddle had almost caused the school to close down once before, and his most mundane Horcrux, that had captured those days, could close the school again. The recent failure to disgrace Dumbledore justified resorting to more extreme measures - indeed, it proved to Lord Voldemort that he would have to get rid of Dumbledore himself, if not in body (he stroked the diary and smiled to himself) then in spirit. If it meant another mudblood would have to die - it was not his fault. His more “proportionate” measures had been futile. Yes, Lucius had proven himself more worthy - and he would be able to use it wisely to effectuate Dumbledore’s ruin.

***

“Kreacher, if someone is polyjuiced into a house elf’s master and orders the elf to do something, does the elf have to-” Severus interrogated Kreacher.

“The house elves know,” Kreacher informed him. House elf magic was powerful, powerful because it was extremely limited. Regulus had always realized this, and he had been feeling more and more as though his fate was to be the only one to see what everybody missed.

All they would have to do was get Lucius or Narcissa to order their elf to hand the diary over to Severus or Regulus.

It quickly became clear that they would have to stop at nothing to get what they needed. 

“What about the Imperius curse?”

“Kreacher doesn’t know.”

The first unthinkable thing they would have to try, to destroy their master who had done unthinkable things, would be to practice the Imperius curse on one another. The absurdity of their position became increasingly evident, every day.

Regulus agreed to be Imperiused into ordering Kreacher to serve him tea with salt instead of sugar - as benign a use of the curse as they could think of, so benign that even Lily had no choice but to accept it. But the house elf’s magic had prevented him from acting out a wish made under the curse, on top of causing Kreacher such distress that he had to be ordered not to slam the oven door shut on himself. “Why do we have to use their elf?” Regulus complained, and Severus reminded him that it was his idea.

“Can’t we Imperius Lucius?”

Severus objected - this would be a death sentence either to Lucius or to them, if not for all of them. But there were other ways to get a wizard to do your bidding - finally, they managed to get Kreacher to serve Regulus a cup of salty tea, and when Regulus had no idea why Kreacher had done such a thing, Severus knew he had succeeded - Confundus was the way to go. They would take a leaf out of the Dark Lord’s book and hypnotize Dobby’s master or mistress into ordering Dobby to hand the Horcrux over to them, without remembering it. It was not foolproof, but it was their best option.

They had decided that using Narcissa, who had not been Marked, would be less dangerous than using Lucius, and the only one who had any business being alone with her was Regulus. Regulus practiced the confundus charm, and he quickly found out it was not his specialty. “It will take less time for me to Polyjuice into you,” Severus snapped at him, eventually. They knew that even if this plan worked perfectly, they would have to find the other Horcruxes, and they still had no idea how they would destroy them, so Regulus could not understand what was so urgent about this particular problem.

“You’ve accomplished legilimency in thirty minutes! I don’t understand why this is so hard!” Severus said, wringing his hands.

 _Regulus had never been in danger, he had never lived like this -_ only Severus was this well-versed in the mental mathematics of living in fear, and persisting through pain. _The less time we spend lying to the Dark Lord’s face, the better - why can he not see that?_ Severus still did not know why only he could remember being Marked, or how he was able to conceal things from the legilimens.

“Hey, I’m not stupid,” Regulus scowled. “I’m the one who figured out what the locket was!”

Severus stared at him silently. _Your being clever won’t help you when he uses Crucio on you, or tells your cousin to do it to you_ , he thought. _What use is cleverness against someone with no conscience? And I asked him to join me, I put him in peril._ Regulus could have had the perfect life, and now he was in so much danger, and nothing had prepared him for this, nothing.

Severus was almost happy, picturing Regulus with someone else, safe, content, and not afraid of anything, and he hated himself for thinking it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You just - we have to get this right.”

For reasons unfathomable to Severus, Regulus could not master the charm.

“We should make some Polyjuice just in case,” he suggested. “Could be useful - who knows.”

“Right, make Polyjuice, excellent idea,” Severus snorted. “With what?”

Even as he mocked Regulus he thought to himself, how happy Regulus could have been if he had never walked through that door and seen Severus crying, if he’d just left him alone in the hospital wing - he never would have noticed him, or he would have forgotten about him, and each of them would have taken their natural place and Regulus would have been safe…

“What do you mean, with what? You know how to make it, don’t you?”

“In my sleep, but even I would need the ingredients, Reg!”

“I asked you to stop talking to me like I’m stupid, Severus,” Regulus warned him, and his patience was waning.

“If you can explain to me where we’re meant to get the ingredients without stealing them -”

“At the shop, you idiot."

Ah, the world being at your neck and call, courtesy of having money.

“I can’t afford it and your vault is monitored.”

“First of all, I’m of age now and whatever’s in there is mine. Second, my parents can’t monitor the Potter vault.”

“The Potter vault? What are you -”

Comprehension dawned on Severus’s face mid-sentence: Lily had inherited everything. It was time to plan a trip to Gringotts.

All the while, Regulus felt his own tension levels rising, too - how on earth had he found himself on a quest to defeat the man who had been his childhood idol, with Severus and his mudblood friend, who was back in his life all of a sudden? He wanted two things, only two things - to be with Severus and to transcend his heritage - and both seemed to elude him. Worse still, things he had always taken for granted seemed to be slipping through his fingers at an alarming rate. His parents’ unconditional approval, Kreacher, the knowledge that he was good, and right, the certainty that he would live… and yet, Severus had expected him to learn Confundus in an afternoon. _You’re not as good as him,_ a voice nagged at Regulus. _He can make spells in hours, you can’t even learn them. You will only ever amount to anything because of your name, if you ever do._

“I will never get the hang of this spell,” Regulus complained, and part of him knew that he just didn’t want to get the hang of it, didn’t want to confund his own cousin, nor Lucius, into doing anything, certainly not something that would surely make them punish Dobby horribly, if they ever found out about it. If they could only use Imperio, it would have been so simple…

Severus accepted that he would have to do it himself - he would have to imperil Lucius, who had helped him so much, by his own hand, and he would have to borrow Regulus’s likeness to do it. _It’s just as well_ , he told himself. _If I could do it all instead of him, while he was safe, I would have._ Regulus’s likeness was not yet scarred like his. But this impediment would slow them down by an entire month, and neither Severus nor Regulus could see even a day ahead.


	31. Chapter 31

How a trip to Gringotts had become a job for all three of them, nobody could say, but since Lily had never actually been to the Potter vault, she was wary of facing the goblins on her own, and asserting her right to it. She asked Regulus to come, and he did not want to go alone with her, and so, the three of them ventured on the task Lily should very well have completed on her own.

It felt truly bizarre for all of them - only Regulus was used to Gringotts, and he was the youngest one, barely of age, yet suddenly it was his experience that was valuable.

The whole while, he muttered: “the goblins will just know you own it, there is really no need for me to be here, honestly, do they not teach you people anything?”

If he hadn’t been in the process of doing her a favour, Lily would have hit him over the head.

They arrived at last. The goblins looked at them suspiciously. “They’re always like that,” Regulus explained to no one in particular. Severus and Lily did not expect anything by way of kindness from bankers. When Lily very uncharacteristically shifted her weight from one leg to the other and said nothing, Regulus sighed and said they needed to enter the Potter vault, that James Potter had passed away, that Lily was his wife. One of the goblins appraised her.

“Very well,” he eventually said, and summoned a cart.

The cart zigged and zagged through a descending spiral of vaults, at a speed that caused Severus to put his hand over his mouth just in case. He wanted to shut his eyes but he wanted to see, too. The worst part was the squeak of the wheels and the whooshing in his ears - they were deep underground, yet they were travelling so fast they were generating wind. The cart halted suddenly with a bang. Certain that they were halfway to the center of the earth, Severus stood up gingerly and held his hand out to Lily, who looked equally nauseated. The goblin opened the door and the three of them walked into the Potter vault. It was as big as the Snapes’ house, with mounds of gold, silver, and bronze, and various artefacts on high shelves. If Severus had felt sick before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now, meandering between piles of money, each of which surely totaled more than Severus’s parents had earned in their lives. No wonder Potter was so arrogant, despite his mediocrity - he could afford it. Lily seemed truly terrified - and Severus knew why. The Evanses might have been better off than the Snapes, but to suddenly be catapulted into such wealth had to be dizzying - or perhaps, she had seen for the first time where the confidence and charm that had attracted her so much had come from? “He never brought me here,” she whispered. It was yet another thing she didn’t know - she knew he was rich, but she could never fathom how rich. In that regard, Severus at least had the advantage of being thoroughly acquainted with the Malfoys. Lily grabbed some gold and let it slip between her fingers - she had been so impressed with his generosity, and now she saw all these displays were something he had barely noticed. She touched her hand to her belly, for some reason.

Only Regulus looked thoroughly bored.

“That’s it?” He said. “Honestly, I thought the Potters descended from the Peverells, they have been in this country nearly as long as we have. Are you sure that’s everything?”

Severus and Lily both looked at him as though he was insane.

“How would you know whom the Potters had descended from?” Lily hissed at him, her pride injured.

“My mother made us memorize Wizarding genealogy going back to the Roman Empire,” Regulus scoffed. “The pureblood lines, anyway,” he clarified. “Did your Gryffindor ever tell you he shares an ancestor with Salazar Slytherin himself?”

Lily did not respond - that James never flaunted his ancestry in front of her had always impressed her - he could not be so arrogant, could he, if he never did _that_ \- but like everything else about him these days, it now struck her not as modesty, but as refusal to acknowledge his own good fortune. _If you had seen him for who he was earlier, you might have talked about this, he might have changed, he might still be alive…_ Regulus’s voice shook her from her silent musings: “So, do you want to see a real vault?”

After grabbing a few pocketfuls of gold, they exited the vault, and boarded the cart again. “I’m already pregnant,” Lily muttered, “I shouldn’t go on this thing in the first place!”

Severus felt ashamed even at how he had complained internally - _of course, Lily must be feeling so awful_ … but even so, the cart moved backward and then forward, at the same breakneck speed, and if Severus thought they must have been at the center of the earth before, now he was trying to remember what London’s antipode was. The Black Vault was not like the Potter Vault - it did not open with a key. The goblin had simply melted the door away with a stroke of his finger. Mountains of gold and precious stones shimmered even in the darkness of the deep, deep vaults. Something had hardened inside him. “I'm filthy rich,” Regulus told him, way back when - and he wasn’t kidding. He didn’t want to touch anything, he didn’t want to look at anyone. He wanted to go above ground, where his new respectable clothes and his Ministry job impressed people, and as far away as possible from this place. _Money is meaningless,_ he reminded himself, _given that you will die without children if the Dark Lord is not defeated, and you’ll have no one to whom to leave your nothing._ It was better to focus on what had brought them to Gringotts in the first place. With his eyes fixed very firmly on a bit of bare wall, he urged the others to come back up.

They finally left Gringotts, with James Potter’s money lining their pockets.

“Whatever happened to his parents, anyway?” Regulus asked Lily.

“They were really getting on a bit when they had him,” she answered quietly. Suddenly, she started talking as though things were occurring to her for the first time. “He said he was worried about their health, that this was why he wanted to get married and have a child really young.”

 _How was drowning me in soap beneficial to their health?_ Severus asked himself.

“He said they never taught him any better because they were just so pleased they had a child at all, that after they had passed, his head deflated. Well, I’m sorry!” Her tone changed at once when Severus raised an eyebrow. “I told you a thousand times, if I’d known -”

“Yeah,” Severus cut her off. He was not interested in what the swine had told her to win her over, especially not now that he had just been to the vault and seen how he was brought up.

Though Potter had been dead for weeks, Severus still choked on the humiliation and helplessness, and he did not want to explore the subject further.

Regulus knew full well that this was all false. He had seen James at his most vulnerable and honest, and his parents never factored into his behaviour at all.

"He did it because he could," he corrected Lily.

"Stop haranguing me, it's bad enough that I know he chose your dratted brother over me.”

“That’s not what’s bad, what’s bad is you chose him over Severus, you should have seen how he -”

“Didn’t I just ask you to stop it?”

Severus quickened his step. Left foot forward, right foot forward, left foot forward, right foot forward… _stay still, and you’ll be overcome._ He felt like he was trying to stay out of a sleeping predator’s territory, lest it wake up and eat him alive. _Just because they’re talking about him doesn’t mean you have to think about it_ , Severus reminded himself and nearly walked into a lamppost. He wondered when Lily would finally realize she’d been spared a life with him rather than have lost him. Fortunately, a distraction presented itself in the form of the shops they needed.

They went to three separate shops to hide the fact that they were buying the ingredients for a restricted potion.

***

It had been a month, and the Polyjuice Potion was ready. It frustrated Severus to no end that Regulus still could not reliably cast Confundus, that they would still have to go through with this ridiculous plan instead. Although Regulus had certainly improved, a failed attempt could put both them and Lucius in grave danger.

Regulus pulled a hair out and put it in the platinum cauldron. The potion instantly turned deep red.

 _I wonder what colour mine would be,_ Severus thought, and then reflexively added, _but no one would ever want to look like you. Are you not bored of your own thoughts already?_ He shook (imperceptibly to Regulus) and took a sip. It tasted peppery and sweet, and the transformation was surprisingly pleasant. Regulus’s appearance seemed to come with a built-in sense of confidence Severus had rarely felt before. He borrowed a set of robes from Regulus’s closet and looked in the mirror. He practiced passing the mirror until he could do it without being thrown off by the unexpected reflection.

Regulus smirked as he tipped the content of the cauldron into a flask. “Looking good, Sev. Don’t forget to take the flask with you. Cousin Cissy can get chatty, you might need more than an hour.”

“I’m already Confunding her, can’t I just make her think I’ve been over for three hours?”

"Trust me."

Severus took another sip and knocked on the door. The Malfoy's elf opened and announced Regulus's arrival.

"Regulus! What a wonderful surprise!" Narcissa flung herself at Severus to his bottomless embarrassment.

“Errr, hi Cissy!”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in! You must want Lucius - I’ll call him.”

“No, I came to see you. You know, we are family after all,” Severus said in Regulus’s voice, although coming from his mouth, it sounded a bit deeper. _Is that how they talk?_

“Finally! Someone who isn’t talking about the Dark Lord this, the Dark Lord that - between Lucius and Bella, I’m going half-mad, to be honest!”

She looked around the room and lowered her voice, even though they were alone: “Sometimes, I think they forget - we were fine before he came along!”

“You might have been,” he heard himself saying bitterly. _You’re supposed to be her equally rich, equally noble cousin, you idiot!_

“But a lot of other people weren’t, and, uh -”

Narcissa raised a knowing eyebrow.

“No need to say more, I know what you mean. Oh, imagine being part _Muggle_ ,” she said in disgust.

_Imagine, remember, what’s the difference, really._

“Oh, where are my manners! You’ll have to forgive me, there is a lot on my mind. Dobby!” She barked, and the elf with saucers for eyes, who had opened the door, appeared, scared witless.

_Would Reg have said anything? I better not._

“Fetch some drinks and refreshments for our guest, Dobby.” The elf disappeared.

“Right, so, is that why you joined the Dark Lord? To help people? I understand you,” she answered her own question before Severus could speak - “the Ministry does more to uphold the Statute of Secrecy than to punish the filth that oppresses our kind.”

Severus looked around him and wondered who was oppressing _Narcissa’s_ kind.

“We pay them enough in taxes and donations, half the beds in St. Mungos are thanks to us, you would think the useless riff raff over there would listen, but no, too busy trying to take down the Dark Lord, I suppose. But I didn’t say I’m not a supporter of his! I’m married to Lucius, aren’t I? Believe me, you have my full support, I cannot wait for the Ministry to topple over. You’ve made him very proud. Lucius, I mean. Both of you have. He had always expected Snape to achieve great things - you know, considering. But you have nothing to be ashamed of either, Regulus, I heard you did very well on your OWLs! Made Auntie Burgie very proud! All my dad wanted to know was when you would settle down with a real witch and stop playing games, but I reminded him it’s perfectly fine to not get married straight out of Hogwarts if you don’t want to. Look at me, I thought I might not get married at all at this rate, and I could not be happier - it’s fine to explore, Reggie, I support you. And of course, Aunt Burgie mumbled something about Andromeda - I don’t suppose we’ll ever live _that_ down, will we? Oh, Reggie, I’m so glad we got a chance to catch up, just the two of us! You’ve always been such a good listener!”

Dobby’s hand was shaking under a tray of glasses and pastries he had been holding up for minutes.

Severus nibbled on a macaron, mostly as an excuse to not speak, and sipped on some sparkling wine. While swirling it in his mouth, he performed a switching spell, hoping he wasn’t starting to change back already, though he doubted Narcissa would notice. The taste in his mouth went from that of wine to the peppermint sweetness of Regulus’s Polyjuice.

He was glad it was him, and not the real Regulus, who had to hear this, as Regulus would have forgotten all about the task. He swallowed and coughed a little.

“Yes, I enjoyed catching up with you too. Say, Cissy, may I ask you something?”

“Of course!” She said cheerfully. This “Cissy” was certainly not the Narcissa Severus had always known. _Is that what the purebloods are like with each other?_ He wondered. _Is this what families are like?_

Her peaceful blue eyes looked at him. Now was the time.

 _Confundus,_ he thought, and watched her eyes become unfocused.

“You will order Dobby to bring me the object the Dark Lord has entrusted Lucius with. You will order him to never tell anybody he did this, not Lucius, not even you and me. You will not remember this conversation. Then, the elf will put the object I hand back to him where it belongs, and you will order him to never mention it, say anything about it, or give anyone a clue about it, or try to talk about it in any way.”

Dobby returned with a tattered diary. Though it seemed to have been used extensively, its pages were blank. Severus cast _Geminio,_ and Dobby put the counterfeit somewhere in the recess of the Manor, his teeth clattering as he went. Severus vanished some more macarons and wine, to make it seem like he’d been there longer. He broke the charm on Narcissa, and her eyes regained their focus, as if no time had passed at all. _What would Regulus ask?_

“You should try to pay more attention to your elf,” he finally decided to say. “They’re… they work better this way,” he added, not knowing if it was true at all.

“Good idea! I’ll try it, absolutely. Dobby has been an absolute pest. Some of them are just dreadful, you know - don’t know their place.”

Severus felt extremely uncomfortable again. He did not like relating to a different species.

“Well, I’d better be off, Cissy. Send Lucius my regards, will you?”

As Severus left, Narcissa felt supremely pleased with herself that she had managed to avoid telling Regulus she was expecting. They were planning to share the happy news to the entire family.

“Regulus,” however, only rubbed his temples and hoped his headache would go away when the original shape of his head returned.

“Remind me to never trust your cousin with anything important,” he said as he drew the diary from his pocket, before the real Regulus’s admiring eyes.

“Susceptible to Confundus, cannot shut up, completely oblivious - what a gem.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I had to add a chapter retroactively so that Chapter 28 is now new, so if anybody had missed it, check it out. I'm really sorry about creating confusion, I try to be super careful but here we are. Anyway, this is one follows the events of the previous chapter (now 31), in the hope that the plot isn't confusing. Please let me know if it is. Hope you enjoy the chapter!! Thanks for reading!!

“How are we supposed to get to Romania?” Severus asked. Neither he nor Lily had ever left the UK, but Regulus had. Again, they looked to him for knowledge on the ways of the purebloods, those who had been raised on magic.

“Portkey,” he shrugged. Apparently, there was a place at Knockturn Alley where they had portkeys that could get you anywhere - close enough, anyway, to Apparate to your destination.

Their other problem was that an impromptu trip to Romania was bound to raise suspicion. Regulus was still dangerously naive - the idea that anyone would suspect him and not automatically excuse anything, just because he was him, was still new. They decided to go through Italy first, as it was a much more plausible destination for a romantic getaway, and to go to Romania from there.

The Knockturn Alley portkey station had a definite air of semi-legitimacy. The proprietor was a short, bespectacled man with overly manicured hands. “Ah, Mr. Black, how nice to see you,” he greeted Regulus. “And your friend is?”

“Snape,” Severus answered, and they shook hands. “Always a pleasure to meet new customers. Will you two gentlemen be travelling together?” The man asked, hiding his curiosity under a thick layer of politeness. “Yes, we will. Italy, please,” Regulus said abruptly.

“That can easily be arranged,” the proprietor said. He donned a pair of thick gloves made of giant skin, and disappeared into a back room. Severus craned his neck - could it be that behind that door lay portkeys that could take him anywhere?

The proprietor returned, holding a boot. “I do love it when the Portkeys fit the destination so neatly,” he said. “It makes it easy to remember what goes where. Wouldn’t want to send you to India by mistake, would I?” He said, amused by his own joke. Regulus said nothing, and Severus barely listened in the first place. Behind that door, he could touch any old thing and find himself anywhere in the world - places he had only read about in textbooks as where potions ingredients come from, or magical creatures, or the places he had learned about in “History of Magic.” Was he actually going to be in Italy in a matter of moments?

“Perhaps you would like to take advantage of our special discount program?” The proprietor asked Severus, who was snapped right back to reality. Regulus slammed a number of galleons on the table - he had very little patience for that kind of talk and very little respect for James Potter’s money. “Keep the change, as a thank you for your discretion, Christopher.”

The man, who Regulus knew on a first name basis, it turned out, nodded.

Severus had never used a portkey before, and when they materialized in what was apparently Italy, he had to hold on to Regulus for support.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, not daring to open his eyes, as soon as he felt like he had a mouth again.

“Oh you’ll get used to it,” Regulus assured him.

“Is there much more to go?” Severus whispered.

“No, we’re here.”

Severus opened his eyes slowly, and even though he felt like his stomach was still in London, his eyes were in a deserted field. The air was warmer, and it smelled clean - nothing like the London traffic that had polluted even the wizarding streets, and certainly nothing like Spinner’s End. After a few moments, he gained his composure.

“Now we need to memorize this spot, so that we can find the Portkey again and go back,” Regulus explained. “Then, we Apparate to Rome, to Piazza Degli Stregone, and take a portkey to Romania from there.”

Severus continued to take deep breaths. “We will need” - he collected his thoughts as his inner voice scolded him for being so overwhelmed - “proof that we were here. Some photos, or some presents.” _You’re acting like you did the first time you went to Lucius’s house_ , he berated himself.

The stress of needing to appear cultured compounded his stress of the realization that they would need to account for their sudden decision to go overseas.

“Oh, why didn’t we just send Lily,” Severus asked, when his panic finally set in. She hadn’t been branded with a mark that could go off at any minute, she could go wherever she wanted…

“Because the newly widowed don’t go on honeymoons,” Regulus reminded him. “A romantic vacation is a good cover story, don’t worry.”

 _At least I’ll get to see Italy before I die,_ Severus told himself. It was more than the guttersnipe from Spinner’s End could ever ask for, and if they absolutely had to enjoy a romantic day in Rome, they might as well enjoy it in earnest.

Hand in hand, they Apparated to the largest wizarding street in Rome. It was beauty and grandeur beyond Severus’s wildest dreams. Concealed behind an insignificant Muggle alley was a spacious square (Regulus called it a piazza) with a magnificent sculptured fountain right at the center, honoring the great Roman wizards and witches from the days of the Empire. He had seen pictures of this fountain in the history of magic textbook, but he never thought he would see it with his own eyes. Regulus took out a camera and took a picture of Severus staring, awe-stuck, at the sculptures. The flash made him turn and scowl at Regulus. “What?” Regulus asked him. “It doesn’t have to be good. We just need proof that we were here, remember?”

Secretly, Regulus was sure the picture would come out perfect - but he already knew compliments nearly always ended up taking more time than they were worth, and that putting it in terms of necessity would make the whole thing go down easier.

It occurred to Severus how rarely he had been photographed before. _Why would anybody want a picture of you, anyway?_ He asked himself.

He tore himself away from the fountain, somehow, as they walked along the street that was so unlike anything Severus had ever seen in London or in Hogsmeade. The stone-paved roads, the architectural marvels of ancient times - everywhere he looked, he was steeped in magic and history and wonder. The smells of different shops called to him to come and look, and the sounds of people speaking in Italian was enchanting. He wanted to walk slowly, to absorb it all, and he wanted to walk faster, to see more and more, so he settled for copying Regulus. “Have you been here before?” He asked Regulus.

“Twice. We usually go to Paris,” Regulus answered, infuriatingly casual. “We usually go to Paris, but I’m a little tired of it.”

Severus said nothing. How could anyone be tired of this?

“It’s nearly lunchtime here,” Regulus reminded him. “They can get a bit particular about it on the continent, so we need to stop somewhere.”

Food was the last thing on Severus’s mind, but soon they found a cozy little _ristorante_ with menus that magically changed into English when they looked at them. Regulus took the liberty of choosing what they would have, and Severus soon found out that he could develop a taste for Italian food, truffles in particular, and warned himself against getting used to this, because he did not know if he would ever get to see this place again.

Regulus watched Severus picking up the tiny cup of espresso as though he had seen stuff like that every day, yet struggling, at first, with the bitter flavor of Italian coffee, and a realization came to him, that made him happy and sad at the same time. _When this is over (if it ever will be), if we make it out alive, I would like to marry him._

Regulus must have been staring, because Severus asked him, “what?”, with a mildly annoyed expression on his face. “Nothing,” Regulus said. This was not the time. _He might not feel the same, anyway._ But Regulus knew that if he was indeed a Black at all, once his heart was set on someone, it would stay set forever, and he feared that no matter how much of an increasingly bitter disappointment he was turning out to be, he was still a Black in that sense.

“I’m sorry I can’t drink this stuff without making a face, alright?”

“Sure, Sev,” Regulus answered, trying his best to sound mildly amused, but he was grateful all the same that Severus hadn’t mastered Legilimency.

It was time to get going on their real mission. Regulus had trouble remembering where the local portkey station was, and they wandered the streets in search of it. Occasionally, they would walk into a store to buy a gift - something for the Malfoys, Regulus’s parents, the Dark Lord himself - a bottle of wine, a necklace, a leather cloak…

Eventually, they found the portkey station and set off to the country where breeding basilisks was legal. Lily hadn’t been able to get anything more out of Slughorn than “Romania”, but Regulus insisted that portkey operators all over the world were knowledgeable - there was more to the job than making stupid jokes about India, and that was it. He promised Severus he would know what to do when they got there. It turned out that his brilliant plan had consisted mostly of copious bribes - although basilisk breeding was not strictly outlawed, it was not done in broad daylight either, and their desperation for the rare ingredient must have been obvious to anyone who looked at them.

By the time they had found the witch who wasn’t only a friend of a friend of a former happy customer, but actually knew the breeder, and could broker a transaction, they had run nearly out of money. They had not planned for this contingency, and Regulus especially had no idea how to behave around people who did not know he was good for any kind of money just from looking at him.

Regulus and the witch spoke in French. Severus could understand the words “England, uh, l'Angleterre,” and “Black”, and “Basilisk,” but otherwise all he saw was that the witch’s expression was growing more impatient by the second. When she crossed her arms and jerked her head in the direction of the door, Regulus turned to Severus, scandalized. “She doesn’t know who I am, and we don’t have enough money - what are we supposed to do now?”

The witch suddenly laughed. “I know who you are,” she said in plain English. “You’re an insufferably arrogant Anglo who thinks I’m stupid enough to sell to you, just because your family is apparently important. Don’t waste my time. I am willing, however” - her lips curved into a thin smile, clearly despite herself - “to speak to your friend.”

She held her hand out, and Severus shook it tentatively.

“Despina,” she whispered her name. “And you are?”

“Severus,” he introduced himself, feeling quite hopeless - if the Black name was no good here, _Severus_ had no chance of getting anywhere at all.

“What do you need the venom for?” She asked.

Severus could barely believe his own nerve when, instead of scrambling for an answer, he asked: “How do you breed a Basilisk?”

A sad smile flitted across the witch’s face.

“I am not breeding anything,” she said, inflecting the word I. “And I asked you first.”

Since he had no idea what lie would appease her, he decided to be sincere. “I cannot answer that. But our ends are lofty, I assure you. What is your relation to the breeder?” Severus was overcome with curiosity - what sort of powerful dark wizard could work with the monster who could kill with a single glance?

“He’s my father. Severus, was it? Oh, I love that name. Shall we continue this discussion over tea?”

Severus nodded. The witch returned to the room with two cups of tea, realized there were three of them, and went to make a third cup, visibly annoyed.

Finally, they were able to resume their discussion.

“I want to help you, Severus, I really do - but how am I supposed to explain that I’ve agreed to sell to two foreigners who won’t tell me anything about themselves, or their relation to one another, or what they’ll do with it, who come to me with almost no money? Help me help you, Severus.”

Regulus could not believe how oblivious Severus was being. She was busy flirting, and Severus was earnestly scrambling for something to offer her as payment. They desperately needed to get their hands on the venom, but they were not that desperate…

"A word, Severus?" He said, and motioned at him to follow him to a corner.

“Stop offering to brew for her, Severus,” he scolded him. “Are you blind? She doesn’t want anything like that. She’s flirting with you.”

“Stop being an -”

“‘Idiot, Reg’. Yeah, I know. But she is. She would have kicked us out ten minutes ago if she wasn’t interested in you.”

Severus felt himself turning red. _Me? He’s right there and she wants me? Can she not see what’s staring her in the face?_ It was about the most unlikely thing he could ever imagine.

“Are you sure she’s not interested in you, Reg?” Severus pointed out the possibility that seemed to him most obvious.

“She couldn’t remember I existed long enough to make me a cup of tea,” Regulus reminded him.

Severus remained skeptical, but in the lack of another explanation, he allowed himself to accept the theory, at least until something more likely would come up. They returned to their seats.

It felt like hours had passed since anyone spoke. The witch coughed a little. Severus took a sip of his tea, which was still warm. He looked around the room, and tried to make sense of things.

 _Never mind that she clearly can’t see what’s in front of her,_ he told himself, _we still need the venom, and we still can’t pay for it. Quick, Severus, think of something before she kicks you out, even if she is blind -_ then, it hit him - he knew exactly what to do.

He rose from his seat and leaned in close to Despina’s ear, and whispered something. She suddenly looked astonished - her jaw nearly dropped. Regulus seethed - what was he doing?!

“If you’re happy with it”, Severus said aloud, “we shall see you here tomorrow with the venom. If you aren’t, we won’t bother you again. Regulus, come.”

Outside her office, a mischievous smile spread on Severus’s face.

“What did you say to her, Sev?” Regulus pleaded with him, barely able to conceal his panic.

Severus had to admit that sometimes, he impressed even himself.

“He’s blind!” He said triumphantly.

“WHAT?”

“The breeder, he’s blind! He’s not some powerful dark wizard, he’s just someone who was clever enough to turn a weakness into a strength!”

Regulus still did not understand. “So?” He asked. _Does that mean she wasn’t flirting with him?_ “How are we going to pay her, even if he is blind?”

“Already did,” Severus announced. “I taught her _Umbra Revelo_. If it helps him see reflections, at least, she’ll sell to us. If it doesn’t - we’ll just have to think of something else. But it’ll work, Reg, I’m sure of it.”

Regulus remembered the day he had witnessed the creation of that spell - how he went looking for Severus, to break up with him, how stupid he had been… _I really can’t wait to marry him one day._ The thought of it enthralled him - so much so, that it took him a whole minute to realize his left hand was burning.


	33. Chapter 33

Kreacher serves the House of Black, and when Kreacher was summoned to prepare the house toward a family dinner, Kreacher came – Master Regulus might have ordered Kreacher to remain hidden and not do anything, but Mistress Black outranked Master Regulus and she had ordered Kreacher to cook his special onion soup, foie gras, and other staples of French cuisine for her guests. She invited her dear nieces, Bellatrix and Narcissa, who hadn't allowed themselves to be seen in public with miserly mongrels, and put on a simpering smile – she was lucky they still called her family after what her sons had done to her.

"Oh, Aunt Burgie, you must let me borrow that elf of yours" Narcissa said, "for the next family celebration. His cooking is beyond compare."

Bellatrix suddenly let go of her spoon with a jerking motion and turned her face, flush with anger, to Lucius. They exchanged glances, and Lucius seemed nervous. What could possibly have gone wrong? 

"Of course, Narcissa, darling. You can have him whenever you want – we are family, aren't we?"

"Exactly,” Bellatrix said, still glaring at Lucius. "Family. And family doesn't lie to family, doesn't deceive family, doesn't choose anybody else over family". Walburga had wondered why Rudolphus did not come – what was this about? Was there anything that she, the keeper of the family secrets, didn't know?

"I agree with you, Bella", Lucius said, stressing the word “agree”.

"Do not call me that,” she ordered. “Only he calls me that. Suddenly, she seemed ecstatic. "He and my sister, not people who try to sully our – our – all to advance themselves –"

"Bella," Narcissa said ominously, "this is a Black family dinner, and you're talking to my husband."

Walburga was more confused than ever, but she did not let it on. She had to change the subject somehow.

"So, Bellatrix – how is your dear husband doing?"

It was, it turned out, exactly the wrong thing to ask.

"Do not ask me about the fate of traitors," Bellatrix hissed. _Had Rodolphus been unfaithful to her?_ Walburga wondered. She did not think Rodolphus had this kind of initiative in him. Bellatrix suddenly pushed her chair back. "If you would excuse me, I must part ," she told the air around her. "And Lucius, dear brother,” she inflected, "you will do well to join me, _mark_ my words."

Lucius's eyes flitted to his left for a fraction of a second.

"Oh, I shall," he told her, "and I shall sit right beside him, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix was indignant, mutinous, but she seemed to accept the conclusion they had reached, apparently with their eyes alone. It seemed like so many non-sequiturs to Walburga, who was soon left quite alone with Orion, who said nothing, and Narcissa, who let out a deep, morose sigh.

“It appears that Lucius has forgotten our plans", she said, composing herself. "I do apologize for his rudeness. Honestly, I hope he doesn't pass his manners on to -" then she suddenly went quiet .

Nobody was making any sense. Walburga tried to understand where her dinner had gone wrong. She had Kreacher serve her guests some of his famous onion soup, Narcissa complimented his cooking, and suddenly Bellatrix was upset.

Both she and Lucius had been marked. Could this be about him, the Dark Lord?

Kreacher's ears were bruised raw. He had apparently been punishing himself for something – Walburga could not tell what it was, nor did she care. "Kreacher serves the House of Black," she heard the frazzled elf say to himself, over and over. "Master Regulus, Master Sirius, Master Black, Mistress Black. Master Regulus, Master Sirius, Master Black, Mistress Black." That, indeed, was the order of preference. Why Kreacher had felt it necessary to memorize it now was beyond her.

Immediately outside the house, Bellatrix, who was very tall, and who was wearing very high heels, towered over Lucius, and with her hand on her wand, she said to him: "You’d better hope Regulus has a very good explanation for why this elf is still alive, Malfoy", and Lucius snarled at her that Regulus was her cousin, and she told him she wasn't the one who recruited him, she wasn't the one who was wary of showing her loyalty, and that he had better understand, sooner rather than later, that the Dark Lord was above all others, above blood family, above his own life. "You should consider it very kind of me to give you a warning," she added. "You are lucky you are married to my sister."

Lucius had planned to bring a son into a world where his father was second only to the Dark Lord himself, not to Bellatrix and her perverse notions, but when they entered the room where their master had been waiting for them, Lucius's instincts made him collapse on the ground and apologize that to his regret, the elf was alive. For a second, his master's eyes glimmered red - It was surely a trick of the light – and his brow had become unfurrowed, and his jaw unclenched.

"Rise," he orders them, and with a breath of relief, they did.

"If Regulus did nothing wrong, Regulus will be fine," he reassured them. "I have suspected him before and I was wrong, was I not? You do remember, Bella?"

Bellatrix's face turned pink and her pupils dilated. "My Lord –"

"Hush."

She fell quiet at once.

"For me, you will destroy your own flesh and blood, for me you will kill, for me you will die, is that right, Bella?"

Tears welled in her eyes. The Dark Lord wiped them with his fingers and Bellatrix put her hands over his.

"Lucius," he said sternly. "Go and attend to your wife. Bellatrix and I must discuss Regulus's fate."

Lucius obliged happily. After what Lucius could only assume was a very lively discussion ( _how am I meant to compete with that_ , Lucius complained to himself), very far away, Regulus felt the first taste of his master's displeasure, but he did not realize what it was, for he was lost in Severus's eyes, too in love with the man who had given sight to the sightless and who had just gotten them the venom for free.

***

For days to come, Severus would blame himself, for not noticing that Regulus was acting strange. Memories of Regulus pretending that his arm didn't hurt, that he was not more worried than he had been before, tormented Severus. But they spent the day, another whole day, in Bucharest, walking along the cobblestone streets and feasting their eyes on the medieval buildings and the local trees, even a vampire or two, creatures Severus was sure were Veelas but that called themselves “Iele”, walking along the beautiful Bellu Cemetery and theorizing about who among the people buried there was actually magic… Regulus said nothing. All he had told Severus was, annoyingly, how wonderful Severus was, how he must never forget it, no matter what, no matter what happens. He made Severus swear it, which had been excruciatingly unnatural for Severus, but Regulus would not relent. It was one thing when he insisted on Severus giving him compliments, but when he insisted on Severus complimenting himself – that was another thing altogether. Severus could only tolerate it by swearing liberally – "fine, Regulus, you blithering imbecile, I'm wonderful and perfect, are you happy, or do you want me to sing a song too? You're being insufferable, you know that?"

"That's all I wanted, Sev."

"Whatever you say," Severus scowled.

 _Oh, how could I have been so stupid, how could I not have realized, Regulus had been summoned, he knew what was going to happen, you utter moron,_ he told himself, looking around the empty apartment that they had shared.

But this was exactly what Regulus didn't want, for Severus to blame himself. _That's why Regulus forced me to say these things – of course. Clever as always._

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me in my life, okay?" Regulus had said ( _and you still didn't get it – still, you were thinking only of how to find the other Horcruxes_ ).

"Oh, I'm sure being born a Black is a close second," Severus had teased him.

"No, it's not. I don't even want to be a Black anymore. I want -" he thought a little - "you, and I want to see the Dark Lord finished, and I want you to be happy." He seemed pleased with the list he had made. "And Blacks get what they want, so you will do it, right?"

"What is it with you today?" Severus had demanded. _And you didn't tell him that you love him, you didn't tell him you would do it, that he would do anything he asks._

"Nothing," Regulus had said, covering his mouth with his hand.

Severus had only one thing to say in his own defense – though he had been trained in lying in the most brutal way, to hide his magic, to cover up for Sirius against his will, to protect Regulus from the Legilimens – he had very rarely been lied to; the Muggle and his subsequent tormentors had never made a secret of their feelings about him, and those who had lied to him, who had fooled him – the Dark Lord – never did it to protect him.

_How could I have known, Regulus, that you are lying to protect me, that you love me enough to do it, that you didn't mind looking like a sentimental sap, that you didn't care if I swear at you as long as you got me to say the words you needed me to understand?_

His breathing was shallow, his head felt full of cotton. Severus missed him – them, but especially him – like part of himself. He gathered his thoughts with all his might. Regulus had cared about him enough to lie to him – loved him enough to endure trials that would have devastated lesser men, and then Voldemort (Severus paradoxically no longer feared the name) - made it so Regulus no longer cared, no longer loved him. He had done something that made Severus do the unthinkable, that had even made Lily corrupt herself. _Lord Voldemort will become dust._

He forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "Control your emotions," the book had said. Severus controlled his emotions.


	34. Chapter 34

After they had returned from their trip, Regulus told Severus he had to go visit his mum. He developed the photo of Severus staring awestruck at the fountain, and put it in his breast pocket. He prayed his erstwhile master would kill him, rather than extract the memories from him, he prayed that Severus and Lily would escape, that Severus would love someone else, in time, that he wouldn’t somehow convince himself it was all his fault. He made Kreacher swear not to lead Severus or Lily to him, and not tell them anything. "And, if it comes to that, Kreacher, everything I own must go to Severus, okay? No, don't cry. Obey, Kreacher."

It was the second time in his life Regulus forced Kreacher to do something he clearly didn't want to do.

Yes, Regulus knew he was in trouble, though he did not know why or how. That only he had been summoned was clue enough.

He showed himself a whole day too late – but he needed this day, he was entitled to this day, he needed to hear Severus say the words, he felt that he could withstand whatever assault was in store for him if he knew Severus had a chance of being okay. And he had Lily, he wouldn't be alone… _It's a good thing only you were summoned. Severus will live._

He felt nothing as he walked into Lucius's house. He was the sound of footsteps on a marble floor, the pounding in his temples, the force that pulled his eyes wide open. Nothing else existed.

He knelt, but not by choice, but by magic. Of that, he was sure. It was fair enough. He couldn't expect less than that.

"Ah, Black, how nice of you to finally answer my call,” the Dark Lord said, towering over him, savoring every syllable.

Regulus did not look up.

"I summoned you over a day and a half ago, Black. Where have you been?"

"Rome, My Lord.

"How lovely. And what was so important in Rome that you wouldn't come to my side immediately?"

"I was there with Severus, it was only a vacation, My Lord –"

"Oh, Severus. You love him, don't you? More than you love your master, the master whom you had vowed to? You love him, Regulus, you are faithful to him, and not to me, even though he's faithful to me?"

"My Lord –"

"Your Severus is a lot like me, Regulus. We have both been born into unfavorable circumstances, did you know? Both of us aspired to improve our lot in life, something you would know nothing about. But only I," he said with a chuckle, "have become Lord Voldemort, have pushed the boundaries of magic, have worked tirelessly to become exalted, and I have been rewarded beyond my wildest dreams. Your Severus was born to be a servant, do you not understand? But you – you like those whose destiny it is to serve, I am learning. I stand above the Ministry, Dumbledore, the old families – Lucius kneels before me, Bellatrix will prostrate herself, the whole world fears my name, and you – you love Severus".

Magic and shame paralyzed Regulus in equal parts.

"How unusual. Severus, who had been a mediocre wizard's plaything from the first, the only sad little charity case even Dumbledore ignored, a Muggle's punching bag."

Anger, contempt and revulsion rose with every word.

"I have promised your foolish Severus protection, power, and love – he ate it up like all my Death Eaters do, but you – you are special. You wanted to be tested, you did not make do with getting by on your name."

Only now did Regulus notice that he had been gagged at some point – he clasped his mouth with his hand, and the Dark Lord laughed.

"You love him, and you do not love me? You want to be tested? Let us test you like he had been tested."

A belt materialized in Voldemort's hand, and his expression suddenly changed, even his posture suddenly became reminiscent of the lowlifes who frequented the Hog's Head. Regulus wasn't a stranger to pain, and when it came, he told himself it was okay, it was just like being hit with a bludger, or falling off his broom... except bludgers didn't hit you, again and again and again, on the same spot, they did not laugh as they did so, they did not ignore the involuntary squeals of pain of the body begging for mercy. "You should be grateful, you worthless pile of muck", Lord Voldemort said, and even his accent was different. "I could've asked your cousin to handle you for me. Have you seen her husband as of late? But you asked to be tested, not to be destroyed." _Was – was this what the Muggle had done to Severus?_ Regulus wondered. Lord Voldemort looked thoroughly amused.

"So now I know why you were late. But this is not why I had summoned you in the first place, Regulus."

A rush of air in his mouth told Regulus to gag had been removed. "Your elf is still alive."

_Do not ask me for Kreacher, do not ask me for Kreacher, donotaskmeforkreacher..._

"I could Imperius you. I could make you choke that elf yourself. I could make you order it to kill itself."

In his agony, Regulus forgot that it would not have worked. He crouched so low, his face was nearly on the floor.

"I did not know, My Lord, when I gave him to you, that you had meant for him to die, I told him to come home".

This was the truth. This was the reason Kreacher had survived – because Regulus had faith that his master's use of the elf would be benign. Voldemort saw, in Regulus's mind, how Regulus had told the elf to do everything the Dark Lord asks, and then to come home. Regulus trembled in fear. The Dark Lord seemed lost in thought. _So Regulus did not know beforehand – he was guilty only of conveying orders that I had not given,_ Lord Voldemort realized. This did not mean, however, that he deserved clemency.

 _What would Severus do,_ Regulus asked himself. _Anything to make him stop questioning me, anything, I was innocent, I did not know that Kreacher was supposed to die._

Severus had once called him thickheaded, an entitled hothead, unhealthily attached to his elf. Every muscle in Regulus's body screamed, and his flesh was tender, he could not move, he could not escape, he could never have withstood what Severus had to endure his entire life - by his father's hand, no less - he was an entitled hothead, and nothing more.

"Why my elf?" He suddenly demanded. "Why did he need to die? "

Pain beyond pain, thought-stopping pain, eclipsed everything else in his body or mind, before either had had any chance to heal.

"You shall address me as your Lord and Master, you shall not question me, insolent child, or your elf will be imprisoned for your murder."

"Yes, My Lord," Regulus said with tears in his eyes, his pride as injured as his flesh.

"Now, to your question – I needed to test the potion your Severus had brewed. Does that surprise you? That your beloved made the poison I used on your elf?"

Regulus's head was forced to jerk up in a neck snapping motion. Voldemort peered into his eyes and he saw memories of Severus... Regulus took some solace in that.

"It does not surprise me, My Lord". His head was forced back down. He could see only the floor, and his own bruised arms. His mouth tasted metallic.

"I am willing to forgive you, Regulus."

A feeling came over Regulus that he would forever remember with disgust. Gratitude, hope, love… Anything, anything for this to end, anything to be allowed to move – to go home and ask Severus to rub something on his cracked skin…

"I beg of you, My Lord, forgive me."

"You will forget about your elf, you will forget about your Severus. You will love me, and only me, your true master."

The Dark Lord enunciated very clearly, and every word echoed. "You will love me like your cousin Bella, my beautiful warrior, loves me. You will love me so much that at my word, you will cruciate him."

Legilimency was unnecessary. Regulus's horror was evident.

"If I will it, you will do it, Regulus. You are mediocre, weak-willed, and ignorant. You were born a Black and you have accomplished nothing. I have risen to the top from a Muggle orphanage. You will do it whether you want to or not. The only question is how much pain lies in store for you."

Another tidal wave of pain swallowed the world, and when it ebbed, Regulus wanted only to die. Die, rather than be used like Bellatrix had been used. He stared at his master pleadingly, disgusted with himself to the very core of his being. _Death… Give me death…_ Voldemort looked into his eyes and saw nothing. Regulus's mind was empty to him, an impregnable blackness.

"Your Severus doesn't love you. I have seen his heart, he did not spare you a single thought, he is using you. The fool has made a fool of you, Black. He loves me. You are nothing to him. How very sad, to be so insignificant, even the worthless, nameless, penniless half-Muggle doesn't love you. But I can solve your problem. I can make you not love him, I can make you love only me, like he does… Let this be your punishment, you will forget all about your Severus."

Regulus wriggled like vermin, fighting hopelessly against what would surely come. _Can't I even picture his face before I die?_ He asked the universe.

His field of vision narrowed so that only the tip of his master's wand was visible, and then he heard it: _obliviate_.

Under the cloak, Severus stared, petrified, and Lily put her finger to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this and the previous chapter, especially to you, scarlet_blade... It hurt believe me... But had to be done. I apologise so!


	35. Chapter 35

It was not like Regulus to disappear like that. And why hadn't he returned from his mother's yet? He went to her, for no reason, now, that they were a bit busy? Why was the necklace they had bought her still at the house? What was so important about seeing the hag now?

As if to irritate Severus on purpose, Kreacher was obviously going through something - yet another thing for Regulus to deal with, when he bothers to show himself - Severus did not know how to talk to Kreacher and Lily most certainly didn't.

"Kreacher, where is Regulus?" Severus asked the elf, when his patience finally ran out.

Kreacher gazed into Severus's eyes with such an intensity of misery that it made Severus uncomfortable, but said only: "at Master's and Mistress's".

A sinking feeling... _he wants to tell me something but he can't._

"Take me to him right now."

"Kreacher can't!"

"Yes, you can, right now, do it!" Severus shouted, with a rising note of panic in his voice.

"Kreacher serves the House of Black," the elf replied. "I know I don't own you, you-"

Several more iterations of this followed.

Severus knew very little about the house elves' magic, but he knew that what could not be done with a single request could not be done at all.

"Either say something useful, or be quiet and let me think, Kreacher!" Severus ended up screaming at the elf, who showed him no deference.

"Kreacher serves the House of Black!" He answered, mutinously, almost disdainfully.

"Then we're going to the bleeding House of Black," Lily decided, suddenly.

It was she who had been on the receiving end of cryptic messages from somebody who had been silenced. She had gone over that conversation in her head a thousand times, and she remembered exactly how dismissive she had been.

Finally, Kreacher relaxed. In fact, he was elated.

"Where is Regulus," Severus demanded as he forced his way through the heavy oak doors, into the master bedroom, barely noticing that Walburga was in a nightgown.

By her appearance, Walburga had not been out of bed that day, and she had not been out of the house in a very long time. Her hair was matted, her face was puffy, her skin had an unhealthy shine to it, and she smelled nothing like her usual perfume.

Her tongue, however, was as sharp as it had ever been. "Well, if it isn't the part-Muggle, part-swindler," she greeted him smoothly, abandoning all pretense of manners, although even Severus could admit intruding on her in her bedroom wasn't him at his most cultured.

He walked closer to her, almost gliding. "Where is he," he asked again, his nose almost touching her forehead, in a near-growl.

"Finally decided to leave you, has he? You've made me very happy. So happy, I might not hex you out of the window," she said with a teeth-baring grin.

 _That's where Sirius gets it from_ , Lily thought.

Walburga's answer was so painfully _irrelevant_ that Severus nearly tore his hair out in frustration.

"Are you Walburga?" Lily asked her.

"Mistress Black to you, you bit of filth that Regulus's _former_ misguided attempt at living out a childish fantasy dragged in."

"It's Lily Potter, to you," Lily said coolly.

"I was friends with Sirius once," she continued, "and I'm pregnant."

 _What does that have to do with anything,_ Severus wondered.

"Kreacher brought us here because Regulus is in grave danger - and he swore Kreacher not to help him. Walburga, please, help us. Order Kreacher to take us to him - I know you want to!"

"What would people like you know about what I want?"

"I know what I would have wanted if I were you. I know I didn't want to be a nineteen year old pregnant widow or carry the child of someone I don't even like anymore, but I know I already love it and I would sooner die than let anything happen to it. You must love Regulus, at least as much, you can't want him to die."

Walburga seemed vulnerable for a brief moment before her face hardened again.

The futile attempt to scream at Kreacher until he obeyed made Severus's voice hoarse when he said, "Please. Help us, and I will leave him, as soon as I see him, I will leave the flat, and I will return to Cokeworth, and you won't hear from me again."

"You are his mother," Lily pressed. "All we're asking is that you give Kreacher the order."

Walburga was lost in thought. Her children had been crashing disappointments. When Sirius had gotten sorted into Gryffindor, she hadn't left the bedroom for weeks. She knew that everybody else was just being polite to her, that they had been whispering behind her back, that she - she! - had raised a blood-traitor, the heir who would bring ruin. But Regulus... Regulus had always been sweet, disciplined, respectful of the old ways.

Until that - that awful, beady-eyed and hook-nosed part-Muggle scarecrow sunk his filthy claws into her Regulus, corrupted her Regulus, and made him break his mother's heart.

She would have made him take a vow to leave her son alone, but that would have involved touching the spawns of filth.

She looked at the redhead who had destroyed the Potter line, whose hand was on her stomach, caressing yet another half-blood. Dead or alive, Regulus could not be more of a disgrace. She relented.

"Kreacher, will you be so kind and take the mongrel from the Moors and his thief of magic friend to Regulus so that they would let Mistress rest?" she said, just as Lily began to ponder the merits of threatening to touch every single family heirloom in this house if Walburga doesn't help them.

Kreacher did not need telling twice. Under the cloak, the three of them materialized at what Severus recognized immediately as the cellar of the Malfoy Manor, to see Regulus bruised and battered, the Dark Lord himself saying to him: "Your Severus does not love you."

Severus looked like he was screaming, but no sound came. Regulus was obliviated before his eyes. It was worse than anything Severus had envisioned in his panic-fueled nightmares.

To take his memory? To steal his life, as punishment for loving someone else? _He came to you_ , Severus thought. _He came to you, he did not run away, what more can you ask for?_

Lily signaled at him to be quiet. When they were children, she used to do that, before casting a spell on his father. Severus never told her he would be punished for that. What would have been the point? The Muggle would have found something to be angry with, anyway.

Watching Regulus lying feebly on the floor, his eyes glazed over, too weak to fight, himself powerless to do anything without incurring the wrath of the tyrant, was all sickeningly familiar. Was Severus imagining it, or was the belt that was coiled like a snake on the floor real?

Whether it was the fabled Gryffindor courage or just the fact that Lily had never witnessed a scene like that, or her training in the Order, she told Severus he had to be quiet, that he could cast spells through the cloak, that she knew what to do.

"You need to Imperius him, and make him walk out of here, and then we'll go to Dumbledore, he can fix him."

Severus whispered the incantation under the cloak.

Nothing happened. "You have to mean it," Lily reminded him, but he was in no state to mean anything.

"Come on, Sev, I don't know what to make him do!"

If Lily was telling him to use an unforgivable, it had to be right.

He pulled himself to the present.

Regulus stirred and the Dark Lord changed like a chameleon, from contemptuous to concerned. Lily rubbed her eyes in disbelief at You-Know-Who’s transformation into someone who seemed genuinely kind.

"My Lord, what happened?" Severus made Regulus ask, praying that it was the right thing to do.

The Dark Lord gave a fond chuckle.

"You took a nasty blow or two," he said. "Nothing a fine young wizard such as yourself can't get over. I've done my best to heal you, and waited for you to regain consciousness. I am so relieved that you have."

Severus could feel an explosive energy building up in Lily, and knew she was struggling with all her might not to protest this sick lie.

"Thank you, My Lord," he had Regulus say.

"Go on home, Regulus. I want you to go home and rest. When you can, I would like to borrow your elf. I have - ah - unfinished business with the little darling. Do you understand?"

"I do, My Lord," Regulus stammered a little, his expression vacant under Severus's control.

Severus made him walk out and he and Lily followed. As soon as Severus let go of his control, Regulus collapsed on the ground. Of course, Severus's arm started to burn.

He had been summoned, surely to discuss Regulus, who was lying right there, and there was nothing to it but to go right back in and face the Dark Lord and pray that whatever had allowed Severus to lie before would manifest again.

Though the house in Spinner's End was best described as the furthest thing from the Malfoy Manor that could still be called a house, Severus felt as though he was going back home for the summer, back to the only place that was worse than Hogwarts. Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew never called themselves his family, after all, and he could at least threaten to use magic on them...

He answered the call of the greatest sorcerer, thinking only of the worst of the Muggles...

"If he wakes up, full-body bind," he told Lily. she nodded.

A comically short trip followed, and the Dark Lord was pleased at the promptness of his appearance. There was no trace of the violence that had happened there moments before.

Voldemort sat on his throne as though nothing had happened. _How many times have I faced him, immediately after he had tortured someone, and did not know it?_ Severus wondered, and in his outrage, he nearly forgot to kneel. Self-loathing filled him - to kneel before him, after what he'd just done, _and he doesn't even care_?

"Severus, this won't take long. I have summoned you here to tell you that I have been forced to modify Regulus's memory. He will not remember you. I hope this does not cause you any undue distress. It certainly oughtn't to."

_Forced? Forced, was he?_

But his anger was extinguished before he could speak, because his body knew, as it always had, that anger was futile, that nothing was more counterproductive than asking for justice.

All of his hatred had turned on the Muggle, who had set him on his path.

Lord Voldemort seemed pleased when he looked into his servant's eyes. _He is thinking of his father, not of his Regulus - just as I'd expected. He is still the boy from Spinner's End._

"None, My Lord."

"You may part, Severus, and don't worry," he said, suddenly cheerful. "There are other wizards. Or witches. Stronger, more faithful. Your family will provide."

In Severus's limited experience, family had provided only heartache. He merely nodded.

"Go," Voldemort ordered him. "You will soon forget about your Regulus, I am sure of it. The strong of heart, like you, get over meaningless obstacles quickly."

Severus could not obey fast enough.

Back outside the Manor, Lily and Regulus were invisible, of course - until Lily whistled and alerted Severus to their location. Severus knew he had technically been fighting against the Dark Lord for weeks, but only now, looking at what the Dark Lord had done, looking at how quickly he changed his skin to hide it, did it feel like it was truly his war.

The Dark Lord's most bitter enemy was death, but Dumbledore was second. It did not occur to Severus for a second to try to think of another plan.

Kreacher was trembling under the cloak with them, terrified by the proximity to the man who had put him through such agony. "It's Kreacher's fault," he whimpered. "If Kreacher hadn't told Master -"

Severus and Lily looked at him and then at each other. There was no arguing with the elf, but Severus knew whose fault it was - his alone. _Regulus joined for you, to be with you, and now look at him. The life he could have had, if only he'd have listened when you told him to leave you._

But the real Regulus was still unconscious, though moaning softly.

"Does he know we're coming?" Severus asked Lily, who seemed ashamed.

"I tried to cast a Patronus to tell him, but -"

"The memory of your wedding isn't happy anymore?"

"How did you know?"

"Wild guess."

"Lily will go first. Severus will bring Master Regulus after her - Kreacher must return to Mistress Black - Mistress Black ordered Kreacher," the elf explained, shifting his weight from leg to tiny leg.

"Tell her he's alive," Lily said. "We'll get him sorted, Kreacher."

With that, the elf disappeared.

They apparated to Hogsmeade, and Lily quickly led them in the direction of the Hog's Head, with Severus maintaining the Imperius curse on Regulus to make him walk with them. He would have been perplexed at the barkeep's nonchalance, at Lily's choice of such an unsavory place to go through, but that would come later. Right now, he sensed only profound unease and desperation, as he prepared to see Dumbledore. After he had waited for so long to never see Hogwarts again, after he had worked for days on end on a poison he had expected Dumbledore to drink. He knew he should be feeling extremely awkward, but panic drove it away.

Lily asked the barkeep to send a Patronus to alert Dumbledore to their presence, and to allow them to Floo in.

Lily came in first, and Severus sent Regulus after her, and then followed. He walked in on Lily explaining that Regulus had been obliviated, that this is all she knows, that he has to fix him.

"So these are your mystery friends," Dumbledore acknowledged.

"Fix him, please, fix him," Severus pleaded, cutting Dumbledore mid-sentence. 

_Such a combination of rudeness and politeness,_ Albus remarked to himself. That could only be the Slytherin Guttersnipe who had once told Albus what had been done to him, only to realize he would never speak of it again, who had ran out of his office without breath, with his hand on his throat.

 _So I have driven him straight to Voldemort_. It was a small but necessary sacrifice, for the greater good. But that he was standing here now and putting his faith in Albus to help his friend was remarkable.

“We must assess the damage,” Dumbledore explained. “Memory charms often have unpredictable effects. It is very curious, how the mind and spirit organize themselves around certain memories, and very curious what happens when you take them away.”

“We’ve already got our NEWTs in Charms,” Severus hissed. There was nothing he needed less than a trademark impromptu teaching session from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore leaned over Regulus, and when he pointed his wand and wordlessly cast _ennervate_. Regulus opened his eyes slowly, then pulled his head back, and pushed Severus away from him with all his considerable might.

"Don't touch me, half-blood!" He shouted, and when he saw Lily, he said to the ceiling: "Oh, and it gets better!"

The last thing Regulus remembered was being at home, and now he was at Dumbledore’s office, with no idea how he got there. The half-blood he only knew as the laughing stock of the school, who was supposed to have graduated last year, stared at him as if he knew him, looking so concerned it was truly alarming. Regulus took mental inventory, and tried to figure out how worried he should be. His mother would not let him come to harm. He was a Death Eater, his brethren would protect him. The lowly half-blood was no threat - only a true idiot could lose to Sirius, of that he was sure. He knew who the mudblood was, too - the pompous, self-righteous symbol of Slughorn’s self-serving “open-mindedness.” She was no threat either - Regulus was not scared of being given a stern talking to.

Only then did Regulus realize that he was in pain, and that his master's enemy was pointing a wand at him. He started to laugh. "Kidnapped me for ransom, is it? Or just to retaliate? Do you think you'll get away with this, you old crackpot?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, half-wit!" Lily screamed. Severus stood as far away from Regulus as he could. It has been years since he'd looked so much like his brother, and Severus could not help but to fear him.

"You know what, Evans, I don't care what Slughorn says, and you know I'm right. Otherwise, why did you marry Potter and not another mudblood like you?"

It was the unlikeliest scene that had ever unfolded in this office, and the portraits all nearly poked their heads out of their frames, especially Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Listen to your Headmaster, boy!" Phineas shouted.

Severus rubbed his bruised arm.

"Regulus, listen to me, you've been obliviated. These are your friends, they brought you here to help you. I am going to try to set you right, but it will go by much easier if you allow me to work in peace."

"My friends? MY friends? Look at them, and look at me, you fool!"

Lily glared at Severus, and he could tell she wanted to ask him how the hell had he fallen in love with that - as if she had any right to judge anyone.

"Young man, I have seen you make a fool of yourself to defend this man's honor in front of your mother! I should hope that you did not do so for nothing!" Phineas scolded him.

But it was for naught - Regulus was like a caged lion.

"Ask Kreacher," Severus begged him.

"Summon him and ask him, he helped us bring you here!"

Regulus suddenly pulled something out of his breast pocket - a photo of Severus.

"Why did you put a picture of yourself on me, and how do you know about my elf, you creep?"

With a vicious smile, he added: "I thought you would know better than to mess with real wizards after what Potter did to you. I heard all about it, you know."

Hot tears run down Severus's face. Voldemort had truly done it, he had truly made Regulus forget. As Regulus spoke, taking pleasure in his gloating, the layers of respectability Severus had worked so hard to cultivate peeled off, and the dignity and love he had nearly died to hold on to were undone. Severus was shattered, and Snivellus, whom he had tried so hard to bury, returned, as pathetic and lonely as he'd ever been.

"Do it, and if the elf denies it, we will let you go," Dumbledore promised. "I am willing to make an unbreakable vow."

 _And let either of these bits of scum touch me?_ Regulus thought. However, there was no harm in accepting that offer.

"Kreacher, come here," he said in a condescending tone. The elf appeared, predictably, holding a rag and looking nervous.

"Kreacher, these lunatics and thieves say they're my friends, that I've been obliviated, that you helped them bring me here. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Master Regulus loves Severus," Kreacher wept. "Master Regulus told Kreacher that if he dies, Kreacher must make sure everything he owns goes to Severus, and he went to the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord hurt Regulus - all because of Kreacher!"

Kreacher's inconsolable weeping had intensified as he spoke, and the rest was unintelligible.

"Say I believe you," Regulus pondered aloud.

"What will happen to me if you're lying?"

"Nothing. It's possible that nothing will happen even though we're telling the truth, mind you, but I don't expect you to have learned about memory charms yet."

Regulus looked to his great great great grandfather's portrait, and Phineas nodded solemnly.

"Fine," he finally said.

"If Voldemort himself has used a memory charm on you, this will be very difficult," Dumbledore said, lost in thought.

"We are fortunate, very fortunate, that we have some relevant memories in your head, Severus, as well as this wand. I regret that I've been forced to demonstrate its strength to you before."

 _Again with the "forced"_ , Severus thought. He was indignant, but he knew he needed Dumbledore's help.

"Please," he croaked. He could not bear to look at Regulus looking at him with such disgust. Everything that had happened was gone, and the only thing that remained was Severus's enslavement to the man who had done this. Not even Severus's fate could be this cruel.

"Severus," he turned to him, and pointed at a large silver bowl.

"I shall need your memories, just in case the usual measures fail. The spell is _Donum Veritatis_ ".

Severus drew memory after memory from his head into the silver bowl, vaguely noticing how curious this process looked and felt.

"Lily, go and get some memory-enhancing potion from Horace." Lily rushed off without a word.

Dumbledore next turned to Regulus and started casting non-verbal spells.

Regulus's eyes moved under his eyelids as though he was dreaming. Lily's return with an absurd quantity of phials did not disrupt either Dumbledore's concentration or Severus's.

Finally, Dumbledore lowered his wand, and after a few terrifying, breathless moments, Regulus opened his eyes.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, so sorry it has been so long, I hope you enjoy the chapter, leave comments! As always a huge thank you to my tireless editor

Tom Riddle had surprised everyone when he took a job at Borgin & Burke’s, as a lowly assistant, rather than take advantage of the many opportunities that had presented themselves to him. Everyone believed he would be Minister one day, especially Horace, but the Ministry was not Tom’s grand ambition, and the path Horace had laid was irrelevant.

His path would be winding, he knew - but to go where none had gone before had required doing things none had ever done. To be Minister was a small dream for small men - Tom would rule the wizards and the Muggles alike, not only in Britain but in the world. He was not bound by the laws of magic, morality, or nature - he had unlimited time. The first leg of his journey was to achieve true immortality.

Tom had suffered indignities before. Being examined by ignorant Muggle doctors, the absurd prohibition to use magic in the summers, before he came of age, and now - bowing to kiss Heptzibah Smith’s old, repulsive hand. It felt like crepe paper on his lips and tasted like make-up powder, but that would be the last time. Mrs. Smith had made the mistake of showing Mr. Burke’s lowly assistant her treasures.

“He’d never let me rest if he knew I’d shown it to you, and I’m not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you’ll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it,” she had said, and she was absolutely right. He could appreciate her treasures better than even she could. When he saw Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup lying, unused, in a leather box, as though it was dead, it had truly hurt his heart. He intended to give it a new life, a future as glorious as its past. But when she pulled out the locket that had been his birthright, Mrs. Smith had condemned herself to death. Yes, the cup could be stolen easily and replaced with a counterfeit, and stupid old Heptzibah who had lived, it seemed, for a few moments of giggly flirting with him every now and then, would be none the wiser, but the locket - for the locket, she had to be punished most dearly.

Tom Riddle murdered the pathetic old hag. He poisoned the beverage that he had so kindly handed her (“Tom, you are too humble! So charming, so modest, how am I meant to fill my time here waiting for your next visit?”), and she looked at him with such pitiful naked innocence, and she died so quickly, her eyes rolled over, her mouth foaming, and within minutes, the cow was still, and her elf’s memories had been altered.

 _Mrs. Smith should be pleased,_ Tom chuckled to himself. _She would play a grander role in history than she deserved._

It was suitable, Lord Voldemort thought, that possession of the cup should transfer from one foolish female whose sole purpose in life was to please him to another - and if Bellatrix was young, fierce, bellicose and beautiful where Mrs. Smith was only a decrepit, repulsive crone - well, it was proof that Lord Voldemort had ascended above Tom Riddle.

Yes, Bella was rather more useful than as a temporary guardian of old relics. Ever since she had come to him, he knew she would be valuable to him. She had prodigious skill, and she did not understand the meaning of her own oppression. She longed to be released from her marriage but she did not admit it, not even to herself. Lord Voldemort had confided in her that he had plans to live forever - and he had promised her the only respectful way out of the predicament only he knew she was in. Bellatrix was no stranger to the disgust that Tom had felt when he looked at Smith - he could see it in the way she looked at her very own Rodolphus - and he offered her an escape. Her dull, dim-witted, doughy husband would be replaced, in due time, with her true love and master, he had promised her, and she would live with her true love, the greatest Dark wizard of all time, forever - if she proved herself.

She did not know, when the cup came to be in her possession, just how many Horcruxes Lord Voldemort had made. She did not know, the poor soul, that Lord Voldemort had no intention of teaching her the secrets of this particular dark art. He was not foolish enough to create his own match. Bellatrix’s fate was to be, ultimately, ordinary, though Tom believed it would be tragic for such beauty to decay and he had hoped she would die young. But just because Bellatrix was to die did not mean she did not have a special place in his heart after all, and he did not intend to waste her while she was still within his grasp. _To not use her would be crueler, after all_ , he noted to himself whenever he witnessed her delightfully amusing longing.

***

Regulus was scared to open his eyes. _It wasn’t a nightmare, I’m really at Dumbledore’s office, and if it’s not a dream, how am I meant to live with myself?”_

But he was not asleep, and he felt three pairs of eyes boring into him, waiting for something to happen. He did not remember anything, but he had a feeling, a deep, profound knowledge, that he distrusted and despised Dumbledore and yet he needed him, that the mudblood had been his friend for some reason, that the half-blood he had just violently pushed away from himself was the most important person in the world, and that he was in a world of trouble. It did not help that his entire body hurt, and he had no idea why.

“I don’t understand,” he said, when he finally opened his eyes. “How did I get here? Why?”

He did not even know who to trust. All he knew was that his heart longed for the person he had just hurt, whom Kreacher insisted that he loved. But it made no sense. _Me? I love him? Mum would kill me._ And then he remembered - according to his great great grandfather, his mum already knew. And so did the Dark Lord. His love, apparently, was as strong as it was unnatural and implausible, and his master did not like it.

Nobody seemed like they were about to answer his questions. Severus merely continued to stare at him with a mixture of concern and horror, as if watching someone on the brink of death.

“Is this true?” Regulus asked him. “Do I -”

Severus knew Regulus would not have asked for confirmation, if the rest of that sentence had been “hate you thoroughly and inexplicably, no matter what you do.” He saw in the way Regulus looked at him, in the way his posture changed from tense and arrogant to limp and adoring, that his Regulus was back even if Regulus’s memories were not. With two hands on his mouth and glistening eyes, he nodded in disbelief. His fate had not been so cruel, after all, just yet.

“But why do I love you, and how am I here, and what -”

Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him from talking.

“There are many things I do not know, myself,” he said. “Your memories will return in due time, I hope. But for me to help you, I must ask some questions.”

Then Dumbledore did something very strange. He looked at each one of them, and then he gave his wand to Lily.

“You have no reason to trust me, and yet you have come to me,” he said to Severus. “Why?”

“Lily said you could fix him,” Severus said simply.

“You have saved Mr. Black from Voldemort’s clutches. How?”

Lily looked down. “We used Imperius,” she said with shame. “There was no other way - You-Know-Who would have killed him! Or he would have tried to kill Kreacher again!”

“Kreacher?” Regulus asked.

“Very well, Lily,” Dumbledore reassured her. “I regret that I have found that the Unforgivables are sometimes unavoidable,” he added cryptically. “You have used them for nobler ends than I.”

“Kreacher led us to Regulus and we used James’s cloak,” she continued. “And You-Know-Who had tortured him, and then he obliviated him.”

As Regulus looked at Severus, perplexed, Severus nodded very briefly.

“But why would he hurt me? I am faithful to him, I’ve always wanted to join him!”

“We have. We joined together. I asked you to join him with me,” Severus said.

“He used Kreacher to test poison on, and Kreacher nearly died,” Lily supplemented.

Severus could sense her holding back, he could swear he heard her thinking: “and then you forced James to drink the very same poison and watched him drown.”

Senseless and horrible as it had all sounded, it made Regulus feel better - without their explanations, there was only impenetrable terror.

Sufficiently satisfied that Regulus would recover, Severus now thought only of how he would be best protected. The flat was not safe enough, nor was his mother’s house, and Regulus himself had helped Death Eaters attempt to kidnap a student out of Hogwarts - they would kidnap him from his bed if he did not deliver Kreacher to Voldemort to be killed. Severus was ashamed that he entertained the thought of sacrificing Kreacher, knowing how much that elf meant to Regulus, and after he saw the elf trying to convince Regulus that he indeed loved Severus - and he banished the idea. Regulus had to go into hiding somewhere, but where could he go where the Dark Lord or his cronies and his servants ( _such as yourself_ ) won’t find him? He ran through every plausible solution, and none of them were good enough. When his ever-helpful, hyperactive, exhausted, and exhausting mind threw the answer at him as a joke, it inspired such resistance, he knew immediately that this was the solution.

“Muggles,” he found himself saying without context.

“What about Muggles?” Lily asked.

“Reg, you have to go into hiding and you have to go into hiding among Muggles.”

“What? Why?” Regulus protested.

“When I’d Imperiused you, I made you promise him Kreacher, so that he would let you go. You’re not going to give him Kreacher, so he will think your memory hasn’t been wiped, that you lied to him and betrayed him, and -”

He could not continue speaking.

“But why Muggles?” Regulus protested.

“They will search for you, far and wide, and you know the Death Eaters, they have power, they will find you. Your own family will give you up - Bellatrix surely would, Narcissa too, if she ever finds out what I did when I looked like you, and there is no need to discuss Sirius. Regulus, it’s the only way.” Severus himself grew more certain of his ridiculous idea the more he spoke. “You know who they - we - are,” he continued. “None of them would know where to start looking for you among Muggles. They are all purebloods and Muggle haters - it’s the only thing that might work.”

“What about my cousin Andromeda, she’s been disowned because she married a Mud- a Muggle-born,” Regulus reached for a solution.

“If you came up with it, so will Bellatrix, eventually,” Severus said. “It can’t be the last thing you would do. It has to be something you would never do.”

“We can use the Fidelius charm,” Dumbledore intervened, but he knew it would never work. The Fidelius charm required complete trust, and the levels of trust in that room were tenuous at best. _And can it be any other way?_ Dumbledore asked himself. _You have already sacrificed Severus, and Sirius. Why should they believe you?_ Severus himself would be too obvious a choice for a secret keeper, and he had just proven to be an asset that could not be sacrificed, and Lily - Lily had different responsibilities growing inside her, she could be persuaded to give the secret up, just as Albus’s own mother and father had stopped at nothing for Ariana. “But to use it,” he continued, “would put another one among you at unnecessary risk. Severus is right.”

“Both,” Severus said decisively. “I will be Secret Keeper.”

“Are you sure, Severus?” Dumbledore asked him. “You know he can be very persuasive. You will be putting a target on your back.”

Dumbledore pretending to care whether Severus lived or died infuriated him. _He is no longer your headmaster, you can say anything you wish to say._ He looked at Dumbledore with obvious, overt hatred. “I know you can think of _something_ ,” he said, placing a not-so-delicate stress on the word ‘something’, “to keep me from talking, if you really want to.”

Regulus had no clue what Severus was getting at, but Lily opened her eyes wide. “What? We know it works,” he taunted. “Or is it not as satisfying if I’m _asking_ you to do it?”

Severus knew that even if the Dark Lord would do to him what he had done to Regulus, and somehow made it so Severus would desperately want to give the secret up, bad enough that he would be willing to die, he could not. Regulus would go into hiding among the Muggles, and he would be Secret Keeper, and he would be magically compelled to protect Regulus as he had been compelled to protect his filthy brother - and even if a Death Eater would somehow glimpse Regulus on the Tube, they would not see him. It was the ultimate protection, and nothing else was good enough. The monumental task that lay ahead of him - to continue to fight alone - could be possible only if he knew that everything had been done.

“But I can’t go hide among Muggles!” Regulus protested. “I don’t know anything!”

“Right,” Lily breathed. “Stop complaining. You’re not the one who is going to give birth at a Muggle hospital! By the way, we just call it ‘hospital’”.

“What are you talking about?” Regulus asked her wearily. He still could not understand what had compelled him to be civil to her.

“You can’t very well go into hiding alone, can you? And who knows how long until you can come out? And when I was born, my mum told me I must have caused a blackout or something at the hospital, but of course they didn’t know it was magic, and now I won’t be able to go to St. Mungo’s!”

She sounded apologetic again as she said she had to get out of the fighting, anyway, and that at least that way she could still help, and that it would be good practice for when she has the baby, if she had to teach Regulus, who had never met a Muggle, how to live as one for as long as it took.

Albus gestured at a large silver bowl. “This device,” he said, “helps store and restore memories. Severus has kindly given his memories to prove our claims, but I am sure that they’re still in your mind, somewhere.”

His current student and two former students looked at him, expecting him to continue speaking. “And since you will be indisposed to give them to me, I need them now,” he finally said, addressing Regulus.

“Fortunately, the trusty Pensieve can help. You don’t need to remember what happened, you only need to want to draw them from your head. It might even prove beneficial to your recovery.”

Regulus no longer cared what would happen to him, or perhaps he had convinced himself he was dreaming. He allowed Severus to extract the memory from him without objection.

If Dumbledore was at all upset by what he had seen, he did not show it. Rather, his reaction was something of a non-sequitur to everyone. “Have any of you ever heard of the famous case of Hokey the elf?”

He was met with blank stares. “Naturally, you haven’t. Before your time, as it were. Lord Voldemort has murdered many, and he started on this path long before he was Lord Voldemort. Thanks to Lily, we know he had planned to make six Horcruxes, and thanks to you, we know he made at least two.”

Severus did not protest this unnecessary explanation, for Regulus’s sake.

“I doubt that he would have remembered poor Hokey if the murder she allegedly committed was not somehow special to him. Regulus, he said to you your elf will be framed for your murder. Those who are old enough to remember Hokey’s story could tell you, even then, we were all shocked that an elf would do such a thing to her mistress. But it was convenient to believe her - she had given a full confession, and has been in Azkaban ever since. If Lord Voldemort had done it, it would not be the first time he had framed someone society tends to overlook. It is unfortunate, how we disregard some of our magical brethren, consider them unworthy of the same…”

As Dumbledore droned, Severus seethed. _It is all well and good for you to overlook some people, isn’t it?_

“I now suspect Voldemort killed Heptzibah Smith himself, and framed her elf,” he finally said.

“Smith,” Regulus repeated, rubbing his forehead. He started reciting names and counting them on his fingers, until he reached “Hufflepuff”. _So he remembers the pureblood family trees, that’s a relief. I wonder what he’ll say when he finds out how common it is among the Muggles. And Black, for that matter,_ Severus commented to himself with bitterness. Lord Voldemort had left Regulus a husk - he appeared to have no idea what anyone was talking about until the name “Smith” came up.

“Yes, Mr. Black, you are correct,” Dumbledore said, and Regulus gave a pathetic smile.

“We need the elf. We need to know what Tom Riddle stole. It pains me to say that by the looks of it, the elf was subjected to the same treatment as you, Mr. Black, but I will do my best to help her. I will write to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as soon as you leave. But for now, let us move forward with arranging your protection.”

“I haven’t agreed to this,” Regulus protested meekly.

“You do not remember, but I saw what he did to you,” Dumbledore said quietly. “If you need persuasion, you are at liberty to look for yourself. When he learns that you were here, that you will not give him your elf, that your memories have been restored however partly, he will kill you, and your elf, and your friends.”

Regulus fell silent, and Dumbledore took his wand out. “Our next order of business… Severus, are you ready?”

There was a fire in Severus’s eyes as he looked so intently at Dumbledore, with open hostility. “You didn’t ask me if I was ready last time,” he said slowly, enunciating through his gritted teeth.

“You must know how ashamed of that I am,” Dumbledore said.

“Get on with it,” Severus snapped at him. _Is he going to make me beg him to do it so he feels good about himself? Was it not shameful for me when Potter made himself out to be the hero, when he hung me in the air knowing I knew his secret and would never speak?_

Dumbledore took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Very well, then,” he said at last, and pointed the wand at Severus’s mouth and throat. Unlike the last time, Severus looked at him unflinchingly throughout. Both of them remembered what it was like, when Dumbledore had cast the original silencing charm that nearly cost Severus Lily, Regulus, and his life - how Severus pleaded with him silently to stop, and then looked only at the floor.

When Dumbledore was done, he told Severus: “You despise me.”

“Yes,” Severus confirmed.

“You have joined Lord Voldemort’s ranks.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Yet you came to me, and made me do the very thing you hate me for, and put yourself in mortal peril - you must know what will happen if your master ever finds out about this. I must know, Severus, why?”

The hatred in Severus’s eyes did not diminish and he did not answer. The next words out of Dumbledore’s mouth were: “Because you hurt only me, and the Dark Lord hurt _him._ Is that right?”

Severus nodded in terror - that was the answer, just as he had thought it.

“Remarkable. And for Sirius’s brother, no less? But Lord Voldemort must never know this. Severus, do you know what Occlumency is?”

“Of course I don’t, don’t you know what’s on the syllabus in your own school?” Severus hissed at him.

“Forgive me. I will give you a book from my personal library. I must ask that you allow me to resume my role as your educator and order you to read it very carefully. Whatever you say, Headmaster,” Dumbledore finished again, with words he had stolen out of Severus’s unwilling mind.

After a brief pause, he continued: “I sensed, naturally, that you did not like me doing that. To stop me from doing that is why you need to train yourself in Occlumency. Such displays of emotion will not do. Do you understand?”

Severus, who thought he was being very restrained, nodded resentfully.

“Before I give you the book, I must ask you a few questions, while you are still incapable of lying to me. You are committed to Voldemort’s defeat. You helped Lily get the Horcruxes. You will do anything to find and destroy them, even if this means working for me, following my orders, and trusting me - so long as they” - Dumbledore gestured at Regulus and Lily - “are safe.”

_You know I will, so don’t make me say it._

Dumbledore nodded.

“There is another thing we must do to secure Mr. Black’s protection. Regulus, look at me.” Regulus focused.

“I regret what must be done,” Dumbledore informed him flatly, and he barely finished his sentence before Regulus’s left arm was severed and he started screaming.

“What the -” Lily shouted, and was petrified immediately, and Dumbledore looked at the marked arm on the floor curiously for a brief moment, and then back at Regulus. Severus noticed that the cut was very clean.

“Mr. Black, stop screaming,” Dumbledore ordered. “Muggles won’t take kindly to the Dark Mark, and there is no use in making you suffer any more than you already have. Do not think Lord Voldemort won’t try to use the Mark to hurt you, or lure you. I myself don’t know its limits. I can grow you another arm.”

Regulus, whose chest was heaving with fast, shallow breaths, whimpered, and there were tears in his eyes.

“You will not come back here, or anywhere else that’s magic. You will not try to find him. You will not use magic unless your life depends on it. You will listen to Lily. You will live among the Muggles until it’s safe for you to return. If you promise me that, I will give you an arm.”

In all the shaking and panting, Regulus’s nod was easy to miss, but it was unmistakable. He was covered in cold sweat, and his robes stuck to his skin. Dumbledore worked for several long minutes, and a new arm grew out of the stump that had been spurting blood. Severus watched, astonished, as bone materialized, as nerves and blood vessels wove themselves into muscle and skin tissue that wrapped itself around the delicate bones. Dumbledore even made sure nails would grow there - even arm hair. Despite himself, Severus admired the spellwork. It was the same as the arm Severus knew so well, only its inside was unmarked.

For the first time, Severus was grateful. _The Dark Lord won’t be able to summon him, he won’t be able to tempt or hurt him, not even for my protection._

Regulus, who in the span of a day and a half, had lied about the pain in his arm, walked toward death, had been whipped, cruciated and obliviated, woke up to knowing only that he was in love with Severus and that the Dark Lord wanted to kill him and his elf for reasons unknown, that he would have to hide among the swine with the mudblood, chose this moment to succumb to the pain and blood loss and pass out.

“Severus, my first order is that you vanish the blood and take the body bind off Lily. Restoring his memory and his arm has been very taxing, but I am optimistic that he will recover in full.”

Severus obeyed without a word, and Dumbledore retired to his chambers, promising to return soon with the book he had mentioned earlier, and welcoming them to help themselves to his famous sherbet lemon. Lily did not move even after Severus had released her. It took her a few moments to admit it: She was scared. She had already lost James, had already heard Sirius being bitten behind the door. Dumbledore had used the gory tales of what Death Eaters had done to members of the Order to convince her to join - and now she had seen what he was willing to do himself. “I made you use an unforgivable, Sev -” she whispered in horror, “and now look what Dumbledore has done!”

“It was the right call, Lily,” he told her. “He would have been there, still, if you hadn’t told me to do it. You saved him - and what Dumbledore just did might be the first good thing he has ever done for me. Didn’t we always argue about Dark magic?”

Lily could not argue with any of it. She put her head on Severus’s shoulder and wondered if she could charm her heart into slowing down.

“You have to write a lot,” she said after a while.

Severus did not say anything. He was not sure he would survive - but he was not sure how he had survived thus far. They looked at Regulus, who was still asleep.

“You know,” Lily said suddenly, her tone quite different than it had been, “Walburga looks fantastic for a woman her age - isn’t she in her fifties? And after two babies! I should be so lucky!”

This was so irrelevant it made Severus’s head spin. “Maybe it’s Dark magic,” he suggested.

“Maybe Dark magic is alright then,” she replied.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all this time!”

She smiled for a second and then looked very solemn again. “But you’ll be alright, right? You have to - I don’t know what I’ll do alone with him for so long, Sev!”

“It’s only destroying the Dark Lord, how hard could it be?”

“Sev!”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised, not sure that it was within his gift to promise that.

“Good.” Lily was resolute. “I nearly lost you once - I won’t lose you again.”

***

Severus knew Regulus and Lily were somewhere in Muggle London, Reg still not knowing how, why and wherefore. Though in the same city, they had never been further apart. Lily promised to exchange as many galleons as she could carry into pounds, in the hope that they would last for as long as it takes, and to send letters as often as she could, and to show Regulus how to use the post.

The book Dumbledore had given Severus explained so much, he found. As he read it, he realized he had been occluding all his life, without knowing he was doing it. _When you started talking like Lucius so the others might accept you. When you forced yourself to live after what Sirius had done, to focus on something else so you could brush your teeth. At the Marking, looking from beside yourself - and of course, that’s why Lord Voldemort did not see Regulus in your mind, of course he didn’t see you try to kill yourself, he does not feel love, he cannot conceive of wanting to die. And now, possibly four more Horcruxes that I have to find, alone. And I’ll have to face Voldemort again, alone._

Severus found that now that he knew what he had been doing was called, it was much harder to do it. Doing it deliberately was mind-destroying and soul-shattering - but he did it anyway, and he felt no fear. At most, he felt academic curiosity about the effects of various curses and potions on the occluded mind. If nothing else, this was new and interesting, even if it was terrifying. The book he had already committed to memory told him fear was useful, along with pain, since they were so primal they could be used to drive out anything else. _Fear and pain? I can do that,_ he told himself. _I will serve Dumbledore, and I will serve Voldemort, and I will destroy him, and we will be free,_ he vowed, and his fear subsided, and he was controlled.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun update: I realized I made an egregious, obvious math error, and got Lily (and Narcissa) pregnant a year too early :)))) now that I gave up on a plot involving the prophecy Harry's existence has no purpose and also isn't compatible with canon, what a bummer. Hopefully I'll find something interesting to do with him! It sent me into a bit of a spiral about the fic in general, but I soldiered on, and here we are, hope you like it!  
> I stupidly put myself in quarantine even though I almost definitely don't have Corona and I'm fine, so, if nothing else, more time to write. I have no idea if I want Dumbledore to come out of this alive, or not, what do you think? Is there anything in particular you want to see more/less of before the story ends? Thank you for reading!

The fabled Chamber of Secrets had been opened, a muggle-born died, the half-giant framed, and Hogwarts saved from closing. Tom made a point of letting it be known far and wide that he did not want - did not deserve - the trophy for special services to the school, and everyone was impressed with his modesty. “I only did what must be done,” he said reluctantly. “Anyone would have done the same.” Everyone openly admired him, insisting that he should be more proud of himself. Everyone, except Dumbledore. They both smiled and nodded, but when their eyes accidentally met, only Tom made sure to keep up the facade - Dumbledore made sure to drop the mask and to look at him very sternly. But he was never going to find anything - Tom had already learned what Occlumency was. He almost enjoyed taunting Dumbledore with the black void he had allowed him to see.

_ Special services to the school… _ The school was in dire need of his special services, the Heir of Slytherin thought to himself. He knew his ancestor had been opposed to letting Muggle-borns in and was banished for this by the others - but Tom knew the Muggles, and he knew Salazar Slytherin had the right idea. When they saw magic, they tried to lock him up, after all. As far as Tom was concerned, Muggle-borns would have to prove themselves to be allowed power in the new world - they would have to relinquish their filthy heritage, and prove their value.

The search for what had become of the Slytherin line led Tom to a dilapidated hovel on the outskirts of a small village. It was with great disgust that Tom entered the door.  _ This? This is the house my mother came from? _ It was filthier than the orphanage, filthier than any place Tom had ever seen - these people abandoned  _ him _ ? The toothless brute responded to his Parseltongue at once - they had to be related. Indeed, that was his last magic relative - he was not lying when he said Marvolo had died years ago, and stupid as he was, he did not put two and two together when he started talking about his sister and that Muggle. “ _ That Muggle”. _ That Muggle, who married and abandoned his pregnant wife… Tom was glad of an opportunity to prove that he was not one to shy away from what must be done. He walked over to the house, the whole while realizing he was never an orphan, he was merely abandoned… and while his rotting disgrace of an uncle sat idly, growing his hair and fingernails long, Tom continued Slytherin’s work… he could not claim the credit for opening the chamber, but the ring had to be his. He had to claim what was his - nothing was handed to him in his life except a name, and now he found out he was named after filth and slime. He would not only claim his heritage, he would cleanse it, he would elevate it. He felt anger as he shut the door to the hovel and went on to destroy the Muggle, but he was never angry for long. He channeled all his anger into a plan, and it was remarkably similar to his last one - except even easier, since Dumbledore wasn’t there, watching him.

He charmed the door open, as the three of them were eating. He was almost 17 - they must have believed he would never come look for them, if they ever thought about him at all. A quick glance into his father’s mind revealed everything - how he hated the thought of having fathered a child, how nauseating the resemblance was, how he regretted the day he accepted a drink from that despicable wench… Tom killed him first, and then his grandparents. It took about a minute and a half, and he had already made Morfin believe he had done just that. He never bothered to find out whether the Riddles realized they were being killed by one of their own, before their souls were ripped from their bodies.

Tom wore Marvolo’s ring briefly, but once he had turned it into a Horcrux, he did not want to wear it anymore. He told himself keeping the safeguard to immortality on his person was imprudent - what if the same thing destroyed both his body and the ring? But once he created the link between himself and the ring, the truth was that he felt there was something strange about it, something he did not understand. He decided to leave it where he found it, and to place a curse on it, so that whoever would learn of his connection to that hovel and to the Muggle family he had condemned to infamy in rags about unsolved murders would die a painful death.

***

It turned out that hunting down Horcruxes was much easier if your name was Dumbledore. Where Severus, Regulus and Lily had to debate who would poison whom until James came along, and impersonate one another, Dumbledore needed only to ask - and Regulus’s memory told him exactly who to ask. Severus admitted to himself begrudgingly that he never would have thought to do that, that it was very clever.

“I began to suspect that Hufflepuff’s cup was a Horcrux when I saw Regulus’s memory,” he explained to Severus, when Severus looked at the cup with a questioning look on his face. “Regulus helpfully pointed out that the Smith line is descended from the founder. I was able to arrange a meeting with the poor elf I mentioned, and I was able to withdraw her memory from her, and complete the paperwork to make sure she is released from Azkaban, though I must sadly confess to you that I don’t believe this will help her if it indeed happens at all. Regulus’s memory told me furthermore that Lord Voldemort considers his cousin Bellatrix his most devoted follower.”

Severus nodded unnecessarily.

“She would have kept it at her house or at her Gringotts vault. Normally, the vault would be the less accessible one and not where I would have started,” Dumbledore exhaled, “but I happen to be more aware than most of the way security at Gringotts operates, nevermind that the cup had originally been stolen from a house despite the powerful protections placed on it. One of my many skills is that I am fluent in Gobbledegook, and Goblins respond favorably - as all creatures do - to those who bother to learn their ways when they ask them for help, something people like the Blacks and the LeStranges don’t typically do. Professor Slughorn is friendly with one Dirk Cresswell, who works at the Goblin Liaison Office. I could have sought a meeting with the Headgoblin myself, but I feel it more respectful to take the route everyone is expected to take,” Dumbledore said, looking straight at Severus, as if to provoke him. “I could be confident that a request from me would come through in any case. At my meeting with the Headgoblin, I told him it has come to my attention that the goblins might have unwittingly been used to store stolen property. Goblins are an honourable folk and to them, there is nothing lower than a thief - this is why we wizards trust them so, despite our years of mutual enmity.” He looked at Severus again, and continued. “I showed him a picture of the Cup, and I told him where it might be. The next obstacle was that the true owner is not I, but the Smith family. The Headgoblin - an unpleasant but straightforward goblin - assured me that Gringotts workers will be able to extract the cup from the vault without difficulty, but I would have to obtain the Smith family’s consent if I wanted to lay my hands upon it, even if I am Albus Dumbledore, as he put it. Frustrating as that was, we must remember that this is precisely why we trust the Goblins to guard our vaults. I met with the Smiths and I told them that my research had led me, accidentally, to the discovery of an item that belongs to them, but that I require, and I promised to return it to them if they let me continue to study it, but I did not tell them I intend to destroy it, nor that I am in possession of another item that belongs to them by law. The cup is a Horcrux, as you must have understood already from the fact that it is still intact. I believe that sufficiently explains everything. The rest is up to speculation. We know Lord Voldemort once planned to make six Horcruxes, and we are now in possession of three. I believe he only made two more, since the cup and the locket both belong to Hogwarts founders, and all artefacts associated with Godric Gryffindor have been stowed safely in this very office since long before Tom Riddle first set foot here. I am pleased that despite my numerous attempts to get your defenses to shake, Severus, you never took the bait. Though I am sure you did not enjoy listening to me discuss Regulus, or my many gifts, or how to show goblins you respect them, I felt nothing when I looked at you. You have been practicing.”

Severus nodded unnecessarily again.

“Ideally, there will be no need for it. He has no reason to suspect what you are after, and it would be wise to keep it that way. But he is certain to question you about Regulus. I do not know what might happen if he sees, in your mind, that you know where he is - if it would break the charm or not. We must hence practice. For all Lord Voldemort knows, one day he simply vanished, and since your master informed you that the relationship was over, you did not bother to check where he was, since you expected him not to turn up.”

Severus did his homework, and he practiced, but showing a false memory or even a true one, out of context, was altogether different than showing nothing: The latter, he had read, required Severus only to feel what Voldemort could not feel; the former required him to assign emotion to his memories, that simply was not there. How would he feign an indifference to the distance, and lack of concern when the danger was so great, in front of the very man from whom Regulus was hiding? How would he endure kneeling before him again? His mental defenses cracked even as he asked himself that in Dumbledore’s presence, for Dumbledore suddenly said: “It is in your favor that you need only to fake indifference, for now. All you need to do is show him a memory of yourself alone at your flat, from before all of this happened, when you truly were indifferent. It is when he will try to see what comes up in you when he looks for what scares you, and who you hate. You have somehow managed to lie to him before - can you tell me how?”

Severus burned with humiliation at the prospect of sharing exactly what he felt, and why, with Dumbledore of all people, but there was no other option, he had to be prepared for when his arm would burn, a moment that would surely come. “I was angry, for a second… and then when he looked at me, I was scared. Hopeless.” Severus could not believe he was forced to tell this to anyone. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked sideways at the floor so that Dumbledore could see only his hair on his face. “I thought about my father. Voldemort looked just like him when he -”

Images flashed before Severus’s eyes, as though he was being legilimensed, although he knew he wasn’t. Regulus cowering, and Voldemort ordering him to forget about “his Severus.”  _ This is all your fault, he joined for you. _

Severus never wanted to tell anyone, let alone Dumbledore, about the Muggle.  _ Now wonder Potter and his mates made you into their toy,  _ he told himself cruelly.  _ How many times did you pray for a fit of accidental magic that never came, to kill him? And when it did happen, he punished you for that too. You’re a pathetic excuse for a wizard, what kind of a wizard lets a Muggle treat him like that, or his mother? And you think you can stand up to Voldemort? _

“If you cannot control yourself, I suggest that you do exactly as you did and focus the hatred and humiliation that will surely come on objects your master will find acceptable,” Dumbledore suggested. “Your father will certainly do, as will I. But you were very sensible not to dwell on your hatred for Lord Voldemort himself - to let your fear of him steer you where you needed to go. I have rarely seen such a natural gift for Occlumency.”

_ What? Does the fact that you were able to see that not prove that I’m failing?  _ Severus wondered.

“I’m not using legilimency on you right now, Severus. There are other ways to tell what someone is thinking, rather more useful ones. Only fools rely only on magic, which can, after all, be countered. Lord Voldemort is ignorant of many things. I don’t know exactly what is on your mind, but I can tell you are scared you will fail. You do not want to do what you must do, you do not want to kneel before him, you’re scared you won’t be able to, is that right?”

Severus turned his head to face Dumbledore. This could not be the same Dumbledore who silenced him, who thought asking him “why” once and then ordering him to stay at the hospital wing was adequate treatment of a student who tried to die. This could not be the same Dumbledore who had threatened to obliviate him if he did not stop trying to break the spell that had been ruining his life. No, the Dumbledore sitting across from him was positively gentle.

“The irony does not elude me, but you must see now that I was reading you when I asked you why. Before you wisely looked away, I managed to catch you planning your next attempt. I arranged for the portraits to watch you, and I ordered you to stay at the hospital wing where you would be protected. I am glad you obeyed. Surely you’ve figured out that you would have only hurt yourself if you had continued to try to break a spell cast by this wand - I never would have obliviated you, I was trying to dissuade you from ill-advised attempts to break free, not that it worked, but I am glad your Veritaserum experiment was the end of that. And you realized the content of the Black vault had nothing to do with my decision to silence you in the first place. I could never hope to recruit you into the Order, and Potter, Black, and Lupin were already potential recruits. I had a chance to seal the deal, and I took it. I had to accept that you would despise me. I never expected you to return to me, Severus,” he said, and his eyes shined. “I regret that I lost someone so extraordinary to the dark.”

Severus’s heart rebelled against the sudden kindness, which was somehow more insulting than anything Dumbledore had ever said to him before.  _ Lost, pushed directly toward, what’s the difference. _

“Whatever else I might appear to you, I am not Lord Voldermort. I will not punish you for hating me. You aren’t the only one who does.” Dumbledore seemed to look out the window for a fleeting moment. From his window at the top of a tower, you could see Hogsmeade.

“I do not deserve and I do not expect unconditional worship. I trust you, because you’re here even though you despise me. You fear the humiliation will break you, but it won’t. There is nothing humiliating in anything done for the sake of another.”

_ If he insists on delivering sagely speeches, _ Severus told himself.

“How come he realized Regulus loves me, but not the other way around?” He asked Dumbledore.

“I can only assume he was looking for memories he could exploit, something shameful or frightening. He cannot intrude upon pure love, only on the things that often come with it.” Even as Dumbledore said that, he sounded strangely distant. 

Severus realized right away what that meant. Back when they were tested, Severus had not a single bad memory associated with Regulus. The worst moment of Regulus’s life until then might have been watching Severus nearly die from Veritaserum, but for Severus, who had preferred to die rather be forced to cover up for Sirius for one more second, and lose Regulus because of it, nothing bad happened that day. He remembered the two weeks that followed, and how peaceful they were, more peaceful than anything that came before or after. Suddenly his mind was as empty as he needed it to be.

Back at the flat from the turbulent meeting with Dumbledore, he felt inside the mailbox and with a jolt, he found that Lily had sent him a letter. He opened it gingerly and laid it flat on the table.

“Dear Sev,

I know your idea to use the post is brilliant, but I can’t believe I can’t just use an owl. This has been the most exhausting day of my life. I’ll try to tell you everything before I get confused. We are fine - Reg (I told him it’s short for Reginald now) is fine, no one has tried to capture us. I’d transfigured his robes into Muggle clothes and then we had to buy real ones before the spell wore off. I bought a polaroid and I wanted to take pictures for you but Reg wouldn’t let me. He is too embarrassed. Can’t get used to jeans, not that he’s made much of an effort!

Then we had to find a place to live and of course I have no idea how to do that even in the magical world because we never had to, James and I, and of course  ~~ Regulus  ~~ Reginald and I are unemployed, and I guess we look like an unmarried couple and I think I’m starting to show so don’t be mad, I know we said no magic, but I had to confund the landlord, I just had to! Then I had to teach him about pounds and pence and about the queen and everything and eventually I just lost patience, I admit. I told him, how do you think I felt, right, when I first went to Diagon Alley? Did anybody bother to explain things to me? Well, you did, but what did you know, we were both 11! Anyhow, I think he’s still in shock from everything or otherwise he just doesn’t want to learn - or both. I don’t know how we’ll avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Please, please try to end this as soon as you can. But be safe.

Lots of love,

Lily

P.S. Reg says he loves you but he doesn’t want to use a pen to write. I told him if he wants to tell you something he can help himself, so for all he knows, I didn’t tell you. Also, I lied, I took a picture when he wasn’t looking.”

In a folded sheet of paper, Lily had concealed a picture she took from behind while Regulus was staring at his own reflection in the mirror, confused and horrified. He could even see Lily’s reflection holding the camera in the mirror, but Regulus didn’t notice.

Severus wondered briefly who had invented magic cameras and how they knew about Muggle cameras in the first place, but he forgot about it as he allowed himself to indulge in the photograph and imagine it was all some sort of joke - Reg in Muggle clothing, how outrageous, and Lily was simply sharing news of a strange vacation, and he could see them whenever he wanted to - they were still in London, weren’t they?

The yearning and the distance tugged at his heartstrings. He wished he could put it all in writing, how he missed them, how scared he truly was, how he wondered what would become of them if he died. Would they be trapped in the muggle world forever?

But he had to control himself.

He always wondered how and why he had survived, when even he did not want to survive, when he knew he was born to be hated. But with Regulus far away and himself between Dumbledore and Voldemort, he knew he was born to be loved, even if only by one person, even if this was all an attempt to be as unlike Sirius as possible, that had gone out of control. His whole life had prepared him for the task that lay ahead and he knew, finally, why he survived.

***

Regulus’s disappearance and disobedience was only the most alarming bit of news Voldemort had to deal with. His spy in the Order - a miserable wretch if there ever was one, possibly second only to the half-blood of Slytherin - told him about the disappearance of James Potter, and of his wife. Only Voldemort knew this, but she had disappeared at the same time as Black. The events were connected, but he could not imagine how.


	38. Chapter 38

Regulus woke up from a nightmare and into a nightmare. His dreams felt like memories, but whenever something was about to be resolved, whenever an answer seemed forthcoming, he would wake up, and he would be in a strange bed, in a strange land among strange people ("People,” Lily corrected him. "We just say people. There is no such thing as wizards.")

He remembered his father and his mother staring out the window and looking at the Muggles. The Muggles could not see #12, and concealment charms had made it so he and his brother could go play in the yard without being seen – but Regulus had no memory of ever going out the door to go somewhere else – they had always traveled by Floo until they were old enough to apparate. If he had wanted anything, Kreacher would fetch it, or he would steal one of the family's old heirloom wands when he felt like it, until he got his own. He expected to attend Hogwarts, of course, as he knew he would since the day he was born. His great great grandfather had been headmaster once, and his portrait used to tell him stories. That had been his life – #12, the fireplace, other wizarding households, and Hogwarts, punctuated with family vacations in the wizarding parts of major cities, usually Paris. He learned French as all Blacks had, he studied wizarding genealogy, and he fully expected to meet someone and marry her, and see to the continuation of the tradition. He always knew he would. His path had been paved, and it was his birthright. Magic had been such an ordinary part of life for him that he never bothered to imagine what he would have done without it. It never occurred to him that there were other ways to live. Not a single day in his life had gone by that he didn't use magic, or order an elf to use magic for him, or meet another wizard or witch. Everyone he ever bothered to have a conversation with were the same. When he woke up without access to his wand or his elf, he felt paralyzed – how I meant to do anything? He asked himself.

He stared at the ceiling. _How did this happen? How did I find myself here? If my parents saw me now, dressed like one of the apes that constantly littered the scenery out the window, looking for #10 or #14, and always gawking at the missing house... Would they recognize me?_ Somehow, his path ended abruptly, and he was on an unpaved road. He could not remember when he missed the turn. He felt like a man who has lived the two halves of completely different lives. The story and the memories came from one life, but they felt forced and unreal; the sensations and the feelings in his body and heart, and the overpowering sense of realness, came from the other. He was the Scion of the House of Black, he had wanted to join the Death Eaters and serve the Dark Lord since he was 12 years old, he was a wizard first and foremost, he had barely the vaguest idea who Severus Snape was, and he was definitely not the type to associate with people like Lily.

But the pit of his stomach knew he was scared for his life, that he was on the run from the Dark Lord, in his left arm he knew he was not who he always thought he would be, in his wandless right arm he knew that he was completely helpless, and his heart knew that he loved Severus Snape enough to befriend the mudblood, enough to go hide among filth. Only the other story could have ended with him here, so it had to be true, even if it made no sense. He knew he missed Severus like he missed magic and was denied even the comfort of nostalgia.

 _Have I been Confunded?_ The theory behind the charm was very fresh in his mind for whatever reason – a victim of the Confundus charm would never think to ask himself that. The horror, though he did not know what it was, was real. He wished he was insane.

Lily knocked on the door. "Get up, you need to learn how to make tea," she said briskly.

It turned out that Muggles heat things on a barbaric contraption called a gas stove. You knew the water was hot when the kettle started making a bloodcurdling noise Lily referred to as "whistling".

"How does it work?" He asked, but all she could do was to shrug and say: "Pipes."

She could not tell him where the pipes go or what feeds them, and she could not tell him what made the kettle scream if it was not in pain and it was not somehow enchanted to do it.

She said it was "pressure", but as he probed further, she snapped at him that she hadn't cracked a Muggles science book since she was 11 and that even then Severus was better at it than she was, and she doesn't know how heating charms work either, and that's it.

He stared suspiciously at the cup of tea he had made and refused to drink it. "Where do you get pumpkin juice?" He asked morosely.

Lily rubbed her temples. "We don't really… It's more of a wizard thing," she explained. It wasn't even eight in the morning and her patience was already depleted. "Tell you what, today we will go to the library and we will learn how kettles work together," she promised. "Does His Majesty agree to drink his tea now?" She asked. Regulus put the cup to his lips with trepidation, and found out it tasted the same.

"So he was brilliant at Muggle school too?" He asked Lily, unsure where "too" had come from, but certain that it was appropriate.

"Yes, annoyingly so, since he did not even care and only wanted to go to Hogwarts".

The thought of this cheered Regulus up.

 _I will learn the same things he learned_ , he told himself. It would bridge the distance somehow. But first he would have to get dressed.

"Try to think of it as a costume," Lily suggested. "I felt ridiculous the first time I wore robes, I told myself I was dressing up. You will get used to it." Regulus asked Lily to leave the room and she obliged. As he stared ruefully at the strange clothes (the latest in filth fashion!), Lily spoke to him from behind the door. "My sister laughed at me for hours", she said, and as Regulus listened, he started dressing himself. "She is a year older than me, like you and Sirius, you know. Hates magic. Jealous, I reckon. If she could see me now… You know, she lives not far from here, with her ridiculous fat husband. Anyway, she said I looked like I had escaped from a monastery. It was back home of course, and we went with Severus's mum because Petunia refused to set foot in Diagon Alley. Can I come in now?”

Regulus came out. The jeans felt rough against his legs, and the T-shirt did not seem like respectable attire for anywhere but home. "I made sandwiches," Lily said. "I’m a miserable cook even with magic. It's more my sister's forte, so - sorry.”

Regulus was relieved beyond words when he remembered muggle lavatories work the same as the ones he had always known. It occurred to him in horror, however, that both the lavatory and the gas stove apparently worked on "pipes". It took Lily a good while to understand what his problem was and then to stop laughing. "They are not the same pipes," she said, clutching a stitch in her side. "Wait, I have to write this down, Severus has got to hear this."

Regulus sulked.

"So how come it's the same as ours? The toilet," he asked. Lily had never asked herself that. "I reckon people don't want to have to rush in with a wand every time their child does their business,” she concluded. "And imagine if some first-year accidentally vanished the entire floor."

"So you've been doing some things the Muggle way in the first place!" Lily exclaimed. "See? It's not so bad."

With that, it was time to leave, and take off to the library. Getting there, however, proved more difficult than anyone could anticipate. He could not remember how to get a token for the underground, how the money worked, or how he was supposed to know where to get off, and people started to stare as Lily explained it to the full grown adult beside her what should have been a very basic fact of life. "And they do this every day?" He asked her incredulously.

"Yes, every day. Come, that's our stop."

"But if we are underground, where is Gringotts?" He asked, to their fellow passengers' bewilderment.

"Reginald! You will have to excuse my friend," Lily said. "He is off his rocker, but he is not dangerous, I promise."

"Reginald" did not know where he would bury himself, especially since he was already underground, according to Lily.

"There is no such thing as Gringotts, darling," she said faux-patiently. "Remember? Now be quiet."

Internally, she told herself: _Curiosity will kill the cat. And I have to do something about the staring._

The trip to the library ended up causing more problems than it had solved, as Regulus had to contend for the first time with the concept of atoms and electrons. "And that's easier than a heating charm"? He asked her. "How do the Muggles live?"

"People, and you know technology works even if you don't know how, so what is the problem?"

"Technology?"

"Oh, you know, all the things you would normally do with a wand?"

"So you have technology for everything wands do?"

"No, not everything. We can't do transfiguration, and… You will learn, Reg, I promise." She didn't admit that she found it difficult to articulate what technology could or couldn't do - she never thought of that, and she had been out of touch with the Muggle world for so long.

It occurred to Regulus that he was always so surrounded by magic he did not know what magic was, and what it was not. "I reckon that this Democritus person was a wizard. He somehow figured out particles and all of that first," Lily said quietly, reading a book of her own .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! Sorry for the lack of Severus in this chapter!


	39. Chapter 39

Severus woke up in a world devoid of color, devoid of feeling, devoid of affection. Such was the effect of Occlumency, he had learned, and he found himself unable to write Lily back, for he feared it would open a floodgate that could not be closed. If he had sat down to write something and allowed himself to feel, and the Mark went off – he could not be late, the charade depended on strict adherence to small rules. He remembered a line from a Muggle book he had read once: “If you kept the small rules, you could break the big ones”. The letter laid flat on the table. He had a lot to write back, of course: Dumbledore had found another Horcrux; according to the Prophet, for whatever that was worth, Sirius had killed and eaten James, and was awaiting trial, and Dumbledore was in no rush to correct them; far as he was aware, the manhunt against Regulus had not begun. But if he would put it to paper and then send it, he would have to acknowledge that all of this was true, and all his knowledge was toxic and had to be contained. He noted bitterly that it was no wonder he had been so gifted at this. After Sirius had attacked him, and punished him for his relationship with his brother – he now knew the power he had so feared was no more than a heirloom cloak and piece of parchment with a homunculus charm on it – Severus was willing to throw everything away on the assumption he was mad. How disappointed he had been to find out he was not sick, how he had blamed his broken mind for what had happened at that Marking – and he was right, wasn't he? Only his broken mind could know and not know, apparently only he was so well-versed in keeping his wits about him even when pain consumed his being. What choice did he have? He noted that the Dark Mark, which he had worked so hard to earn, went the way of the scars the Muggle had given him – he was now desperate for it to disappear, to be an unblemished, free man.

He noted also that, like Sirius, Voldemort took great offense at the idea that Regulus Black could love Severus Snape. Just like James took offense at the idea that Lily could love him, too. But this set of Potter and Black was soon to be destroyed, and the new set had to be protected at all costs, including the cost of his interest in protecting them. He made records of his findings on the effects of Occlumency, and compared them to past experiences. He was very level-headed too, when he had explained to Pomfrey that he was mad, and he did not notice Regulus then – only Sirius existed, in every random movement of the air around him. And the voice beneath the cloak was so much like the Dark Lord’s voice of the Marking, and both of them only wanted to hurt him… At least Sirius did not pretend otherwise. _And both of them made a fool out of you, when you thought you had finally outsmarted them._ Sirius was finally going to get what was due to him – and so was Voldemort.

Already, Severus felt that he had a stronger command of his own mind, that the knowledge that Occlumency had been protecting him from the very beginning, strengthened him, and he knew that he might be sick, he might be broken – but he wasn't dead, he had his brain to thank for that. Even if he felt like he was barely alive, even if the feelings that had made life worth it had to be discarded. He had to make do with the knowledge that Regulus's only hope would be for Severus to exist only with his resentment, bitterness, and fear, and without his love. _To deny love for love's sake_ , he wrote on the margins of the book (he never did drop that habit) – _something only you could do_. He asked himself: _How many others like me are there?_ How many Death Eaters had longed for an escape? Possibly from the moment they had been marked? Severus knew there were others, other factions of death eaters who had not been allowed to know about one another. And then, of course, you had the people bearing fake marks, who did not know how lucky they were. Though there had to be others like him, as far as he could tell, they were trapped with no recourse. He could not afford to love Regulus, and he could not afford to give into the fear, so he thought of these others, who had to exist, nameless and faceless as they were.

It had been days since Lily sent her letter, and Severus still wrote nothing back.

***

He was almost relieved when the mark finally went off. The hours and days of preparation were not wasted. _You don't know what a Horcrux is, Regulus hasn't tried to contact you, nor do you care where he is. You loathe Muggles and you despise Dumbledore, as you always have. And you love_ – he said to himself while swallowing – _the Dark Lord_. The last one was no use, but he hoped that in his master's mind, the appearance of submission and gratitude would do. There was nothing humiliating in anything done for the sake of another, Dumbledore had said – and it was time to test this theory.

The usual display of humility followed. Lucius and Bellatrix watched the proceedings haughtily, Lucius surely relieved that he was no longer forced to participate in this ritual, at least not in public. Severus knew, but did not dwell on the thought, that both Lucius and Bellatrix had inadvertently failed their master – that if his master should look for his Horcruxes, he would find only useless replicas. When it was Severus's turn to kneel before the man who erased him from Regulus's mind, he did not burn with humiliation and he was not angry, although he was curiously reminded of Walburga Black. Finally, they were all seated. The seat beside Severus was empty.

Severus could feel the others' eyes avoiding the empty seat.

"I regret," the Dark Lord started solemnly, "that one of our numbers has left us. He has not left us honorably, and he has put us all in great danger. Surely, you have understood by now of whom I am speaking."

Nothing stirred in Severus, only the most formless tension. He felt not unlike he had when James Potter was named head boy.

"Regulus Black disobeyed a direct order and ran away. I trust that you understand how serious this is, and how important it is that he is captured and duly punished."

Severus heard only murmurs of assent.

"Anyone of you who might know anything about the traitor’s whereabouts will be greatly rewarded, but let us begin with you, Snape. After all, he used to sit beside you."

Now all eyes were on him, and Severus could feel them all praying for the interrogation to end with him, hoping that he would be the lightning rod who would absorb the fury. Bellatrix caressed her wand ominously and looked at him with overt disgust. Again, Walburga Black came to his mind - the family resemblance was uncanny. "Fear and pain will drive out anything", the book had said, and he was staring fear and pain in the face.

"My Lord", he said, stammering slightly. He looked around him. "I do not understand. When we last –" he stopped talking, but opened his eyes wide and concentrated with all his might on the memory of his master telling him he had been forced to erase Regulus's memory. The Dark Lord smiled.

Bellatrix was angrier than before. "The half-blood cannot produce an explanation," she breathed. "I can get it out of him," she implored.

"Au contraire, Bella," the Dark Lord told her. "Severus has already answered my question, and he has done so with discretion."

"He lies," Bellatrix insisted. "I have been watching them, My Lord, their knees touching under the table –"

"That they might have, Bella, but he is telling the truth."

All eyes were on Severus, still, and Severus was certain that they were all wondering what did he say to gain such favor.

"The children of filth cannot be trusted, My Lord,” Bellatrix said, barely containing her fury, her chin sticking out.

Her master's expression had become cold. "You question me, Bellatrix?"

She sank into her seat and her lower lip trembled. "My L-"

"Silence," he threatened and looked at the rest of them. "I will not tolerate insubordination," he said, "and I shall deal with you in private, Bellatrix. It does not elude me that you have your own link to the traitor."

Severus wanted to shout at her that she was mistaken, but whether it was the silencing spell or his own better judgment, he felt the old choking sensation he knew so well. Instead, he found himself most uncharacteristically interrupting the exchange. "My Lord, Bellatrix is right about me," he confessed. "I am untrustworthy. I used Regulus, I admit it – I needed him, to get to you, and to become a Death Eater."

He did not know where the stroke of genius had come from, but he was grateful to Walburga all the same, for showing him how people like her think.

“I would not compromise the end for the means, My Lord.”

The telltale lines of lying, fear, or daring, an elevated heart rate, uncertainty, nervousness, hope that it would work, the knowledge that reality was not so – were all absent from Severus’s mind. Bellatrix clenched her teeth.

"Let us waste no more time on Mr. Snape, shall we? I will question each of you in due time. Until then, anyone who has any idea where the traitor is, is welcome to volunteer it."

***

Lord Voldemort did not take kindly to defiance, ever since he was a small child. Those who had defied him suffered the consequences, and the policy served him well. Yes, even at the orphanage, he made sure those kids, his "peers", would know better than to defy him twice. "I am doing it, without touching you", he taunted them, as they writhed in agony in the cave.

When they had complained to Mrs. Cole, there was nothing she could have done. Since then, a mere glance in their general direction made them soil themselves almost invariably. Tom always made sure to use that to his entertainment over the summer, every summer.

It was in that cave that he had placed his most precious, best-protected Horcrux, the true failsafe against death, his sole inheritance and the bridge to the future. In honor of his ancestor, he had murdered a Muggle to make it into a Horcrux. It was guarded by an unreachable location, the Drink of Despair, and an army of Inferi. Even one who could overcome the obstacles and escape with it would have to speak the language of snakes to destroy it, and Tom Riddle had long killed everyone who could speak it.

Lord Voldemort was certain that the Horcrux was safe - but that did not mean he would allow disobedience to take hold among his ranks. _The elf might speak, and someone cleverer than Regulus might understand that I am guarding something important. That elf and its traitor owner must die._

Lord Voldemort pulled his attention back to the room. He was normally amused at Bellatrix's tirades against half-bloods – it was all the more satisfying that she unwittingly knelt before one, eagerly put her lips to the hem of his robe, and tortured her pureblood husband for him, vowed to kill and die for him. Everything about their relationship was more satisfying knowing that he was deceiving her, that she was corrupting herself with every gesture of passion and admiration. But he could not tolerate her openly contradicting him based on her notions, amusing as her notions were.

She had been insubordinate, as her cousin had been, and she would pay most dearly. The half-blood of Slytherin predictably proved his wretchedness. _Who knows what he had made himself do just for a chance to become a Death Eater_ , Voldemort said to himself. He remembered how Severus handed his memories over, how he took the bait, and did not look away, covered though he was in cold sweat – and how annoyed he looked with Regulus immediately after he had been marked.

Lord Voldemort saw no reason to doubt someone so abject.

He proceeded in turn to question them all. None of them had any idea where Regulus might have gone, and neither had Narcissa.

It had reinforced the theory, strange as it was, that Regulus and Lily Potter disappeared together. Lord Voldemort had to entertain the possibility that Regulus was the father of Lily's child, that they had conspired to get rid of James and abandon Severus, who had nothing to do with why Black had disappeared.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just checked and I've been writing this for over a little over a year, so I'm very weirded out by the fact that what had started as more of a one-shot turned into this. Hope I've not worn out my readers' patience! Thank you for reading! I'm very fortunate to have readers at all, and such sweet ones at that! (And of course my excellent, amazing beta/editor!)

After the meeting, back at the empty flat, Severus recorded another observation in the margins of the Occlumency book: _The lie becomes the truth,_ he wrote, as a cryptic message to himself: his survival depended on his belief in what he had been forced to say. Lily’s letter remained on the table, as an uncomfortable reminder that this was not the truth. He wondered if Regulus had started to regain his memories, the very same memories Severus now repressed and denied. He felt that what he had said to the Death Eaters was the truth – even though he knew it wasn’t. _Memories without emotion,_ he wrote, _are only stories._

He did not know that Regulus had emotions with no memories, that he was crawling up the wall with confusion and concern. Under Regulus’s cousin’s gaze, and under Lord Voldemort’s, like an ant under a magnifying glass, he said he had used Regulus to become a Death Eater, and he had survived. It was not exactly honourable, uttering these words, that utter bastardization of the truth, in front of all these people, who had hoped to see him fail so that it would not be them who would be questioned next, but it needed to be done.

As Severus showered and prepared a solitary dinner, so absent-minded that he barely felt the warm water on his skin or the taste of his meal, he told himself furthermore that at least, even if he was the author of his own abasement, he was not forced to lie to cover up crimes against himself, and he was not used for Potter’s entertainment. _I know the truth,_ he reminded himself _. I deceived the Dark Lord._ He would have been proud of himself, if he could afford to be. The only truly humiliating thing about it was that still, still he thought of Potter, who had drowned, and of Black, who was about to be charged with murder (more un-poetic justice, Severus had never witnessed). He still felt the effects of what Potter and Black had done to him even after he had faced the Dark Lord himself. Why, after everything that had happened, did he still think about them at all, or about his father, or about Walburga, or about Dumbledore?

***

The flat Lily had leased had thin walls, and she could hear Regulus pacing at night, talking in his sleep, and even sobbing. Severus didn’t write back, and they had no way to tell if he was still alive - and Lily was sleepless as well. _How did we agree to this ridiculous plan?_ She asked herself. _What are we doing here?_

To comfort herself, she told herself Dumbledore would know how to tell them if anything had happened - as long as his phoenix patronus didn’t seek them, she could assume Severus was still alive. She tried to find a way to tell Regulus that without betraying the fact that she heard him. She talked for two minutes straight about how Dumbledore had trained everyone in the Order to send each other messages via patronus, hoping he would get the hint that they were not completely deserted, even if it felt like they were.

He had already mastered the gas stove, and the kettle, but he still refused to touch pens, and getting around was still immeasurably difficult.

It had dawned on Lily that Regulus’s life was different, not just because he was magic – even wizards had to get groceries and cook their meals. There were so many experiences Regulus did not have even the magical equivalent of.

“Did Severus ever tell you about the movies?” She asked. She had always enjoyed the movies, and she hoped it would afford him (and her) some relief.

“Movies? What are those, some sort of Muggle plant that moves? It sounds vile.”

Internally, Lily agreed, it did sound vile. “No, it’s film –“

“Film? A film of what?!” He cried out.

“Nothing! Listen, it’s – okay, so wizards have pictures that move, and you have seen plays, right? So it’s like a play, and the picture moves, only it's many pictures in sequence and they also talk.”

“I suppose you think this proves that Muggles aren’t mad.”

“No, Reg, come on, they really are quite nice!”

He eyed her suspiciously.

 _Anything to keep the mind off things_ , Lily told herself, and to not blurt out the fact that she had sent Severus another letter already, and he had yet to respond to either.

She picked something that sounded good, knowing it made no difference. She remembered how one time, before she found out she was magic, a movie had frightened her so much that in a fit of accidental magic, the projector burst into flames. Petunia had complained about this for weeks – and the tickets weren’t cheap. She wondered if her sister ever did find out how that movie had ended.

She hadn’t written to her – she didn’t know where to start, and she had too much on her hands to deal with explaining her predicament to Petunia, on top of explaining Muggles to Regulus.

They walked to the cinema – Lily could not handle taking the underground again.

The concept of popcorn presented yet another unforeseen obstacle.

“So you people take grains and heat them until they inflate, and then flavor them with something that is _not_ butter but you don’t know what it is, and only eat them at the movies?”

“Don’t tell me it’s more mental than candy that tastes like vomit,” she snapped, and now people were staring at her.

“But what’s the point if you know what flavor it’s going to be?”

“That you know what flavor it’s going to be,” She explained slowly, as if speaking to a particularly stupid child.

She was tired of the assumption that the way wizards lived was necessarily the sensible one. After all, it was wizards who were hunting Regulus down, as he should have been well aware.

“At least Muggles did not come up with ways to erase someone’s memory,” Lily said, and she regretted it as soon as she had said it.

“People,” Regulus spat back at her, turned his back to her, and left.

She ran after him.

“I’m sorry,” she implored. “I didn’t-“

“You don’t know what it’s like, so don’t talk about it.”

“It was completely uncalled for, Reg, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I won’t. But please – would you come and watch the movie with me?”

Internally, Regulus weighed his options. What he wanted was to be by himself. But he’d never navigated busy city streets on his own before, and he was completely helpless without Lily. To admit that, however, would be worse. He decided he could only maintain the semblance of the upper hand if he pretended to be forgiving and joined her.

To his relief, he found out that while the trials and tribulations of Muggles pretending to be other Muggles did not capture his interest, nobody bothered anybody or stared at him in the dark cinema, and he whiled the movie away, lost in thought.

He also found out that he loved popcorn.

The regrettable outcome was that he was thirstier than he had ever been in his life by the time the movie had ended, and his misery was compounded by the fact that he had no idea how long movies usually were. When it was over, he whispered through his parched throat, “water,” and for reasons he was sure had to do with the memories that had been erased, he thought about Kreacher, and wondered if he was okay. He let Lily lead him to a water fountain and show him how to use it. He looked at it, still skeptical.

“It also works on pipes,” Lily explained wearily.

“You know, that’s what it’s like,” Regulus said, once he was quenched. “Like there is a movie in my head, all the time, but it goes dark in the middle. And then I can’t remember anything.”

On their walk back to their flat, Lily told him everything she knew.

“I didn’t ask him too much about you, Reg, to be honest – it was none of my business, you know, and I was just glad he had someone, but, well, I remember you poured pumpkin juice on Sirius’s head when we were in our sixth year – I figured later that this is what that was about because you never really paid attention to Sirius before. I started going out with James in our seventh year, and I know Sirius always used to spy on you and Sev on their map.”

Not wanting to sound stupid, Regulus did not ask what map, but it gave him some comfort that he wasn’t imagining things, that it was all real that it had all happened.

“Then, after James got hurt in a mission for the Order, I was at the hospital wing, and that’s how I found out about what Sirius had done, and this is why I first came to see you. You weren’t very nice, by the way.”

Suddenly, Regulus felt very scared.

“Sirius did something? What are you talking about?”

Lily tried to backtrack. She could not bear to be the one to remind him of this. “Look, it’s not important – Severus is alive, isn’t he?”

But it was too late, she had said the wrong thing, and she opened the floodgates.

***

Severus found another letter from Lily in the mail the day after he had returned from the Death Eater meeting, and it was very short.

“Sev, please write back, he keeps remembering things and I can tell him what’s real and what’s not, and he is going to do something stupid and try to find you, if you don’t write back. I don’t know how to calm him down. I wish I could have phoned you.”

Of all the things Severus could feel as he read that letter, he swelled with resentment. He did not know what came over him as he put pen to paper and wrote:

“Tell him he can write to me himself if he misses me so much. Tell him, if he is remembering things, perhaps he is remembering that I had to see his brother’s face every day after he had tried to kill me, so at least Regulus has been spared that. And remind him that he watched his cousin torture her husband, and didn’t care, and that he watched James drown, and didn’t care, so he needs to suck it up, and some of us have bigger things to worry about than whether or not kettles can feel pain.”

As soon as he sent it, he regretted it. _Reg was the one person who never hurt you, and this is what you write?_

He returned to the empty flat immediately and wrote another letter, and immediately went back to the mailbox to send it. It said only: “I’m sorry.” He did not know why he had written something so foul.

He could not promise that he would be okay, that anyone would be okay, and he could not say any of the things he wanted to say. But Lily’s next letter said only: “I don’t know why, but that actually helped. I think you might be truly made for each other.”

It came with pictures, real pictures, of Regulus smiling at him, looking straight at the camera.

With a twinge of pain, he remembered the hurt and the disappointment on Regulus’s face when Severus was unable to strip without panicking. He remembered the tenderness and love he had felt when he finally did manage it, the night he had given him _Gratia felinae_.

“I have to do it myself”, he had told Regulus that night, and the relative darkness of the room gave him a little bit of confidence, though he had assumed that under the effect of the spell, Regulus could still see in the dark. Then, as now, Severus closed his eyes and exhaled.

 _It’s Regulus, he loves you,_ he had told himself. He had felt Regulus’s eyes on him and he had looked away as he slowly, slowly undressed. With the din in his head, he could not think straight, or at all - but he was naked. James Potter did not, after all, take everything from him, he could still perform a gesture of trust for someone, for the first time. Nineteen year old Severus told himself: _This is what it has always been about, trust, courage, love – not nudity in itself._ He finally realized that nudity, that could be stolen, was worthless in itself. 

“Well?” Sixteen year old Severus had asked Regulus, mainly to distract himself from what was happening, and Regulus said nothing. His pupils were unnaturally dilated, and they shone in the dark.

“Come here,” he had finally said, and Severus had obliged.

Present-day Severus remembered the feel of Regulus’s robes, that were woven of a much softer, smoother fabric than his, against his bare legs.

“Thank you,” Regulus had said, but before Severus could ask what on earth Regulus had thanked him for, he could no longer speak, because Regulus’s mouth was on his, and by the time he could speak again, he had completely forgotten what he wanted to say. Only now did Severus realize: Clever Regulus had thanked him for his trust, the gift was purer and rarer than any platinum cauldron or even any spell ( _for even cauldrons and spells could be stolen,_ Severus noted bitterly, _and trust could only be destroyed.)_

But at sixteen, Severus did not know or think of all of this; he was aware only of the fact that Regulus did not laugh at him or leave him. He was sixteen, after all, so it was only natural that he was lost in the moment and knew only how long he had waited for it. He succumbed to it, finally - to the hands on his waist, to the lips on his thigh, and the din in his head had stopped, and his mind, that was so gifted at finding faults with everything, especially with himself, had nothing to comment on.

This was perfect. They had not been so chaste before that night - Regulus never had the same cursed hang-ups as Severus, after all (as present-day Severus reminisced, he wondered if Regulus would have scars the next time they meet, and if he would be as free with his body as he had always been). But Severus had done it, he had given himself freely, and he was human, he was worthy, he was whole, however briefly, and he wanted for nothing, at that moment.

Present-day Severus snapped out of his reverie, suddenly aware of everything around him. This memory was real. That was why he had agreed - insisted on - facing Lord Voldemort alone, that was what had given him the faith that it was possible. He noted bitterly that it was Walburga who had provoked him into the monumentally stupid decision to become a Death Eater, just by having called it “night-time romps.” _And now look what you said to all the others. You never should have listened to her. For Salazar’s sake, why did you listen to the woman who spawned Sirius?_

Severus remarked to himself how miraculous it truly was, that even he, the ugly boy from Spinner’s End, who was hated and scorned at every turn, ended up being able to endure someone’s - anyone’s - touch, and to miss it, never mind that he never expected anyone to want to touch him anyway. The first time they had shared a bed, Severus expected to die before the night was over - and now the bed was empty, and safety was possibly further away from his reach than it had ever been. Once upon a time, sex was a struggle for his dignity, for the possibility of intimacy, possibly for his very life.

Severus vowed: _If Reg doesn’t remember it all by the time Voldemort is destroyed, I will remind him, if I have to recreate it all to the last detail._

Where before he was too detached to write anything, now he was too overcome. He looked at the photographs, and the sheer unlikeliness of the way it had all transpired shocked him. He could not believe it even as he was living it: Regulus Black among the Muggles, with Lily Potter by his side, and him working for Dumbledore. _I should have taken divination,_ he told himself, for common sense or logic or inference from the past could never have prepared him for this. Of course Occlumency came easy - it was easier than believing that such a ridiculous chain of events had actually taken place.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I worry that this is getting a bit too long and tiresome, so thank you for sticking with this fic, I cherish every reader <3 Time to decide who to kill off for dramatic effect! Any suggestions?  
> [Forgot to add: Thank you Spider for your suggestions to improve Dumbledore's dream!]

Albus sat down with his evening cup of pumpkin juice.

"You set my great great grandson up to be fed to the Dementors," Phineas Nigellus Black’s portrait complained.

"I did him a disservice," Albus said. "If I had not covered for him, then he would not have gone as far as he did–"

"I was here when you spun that tale in the first place,”

"He should have been expelled –"

"You should have expelled him, you mean, and we would have sent him to Durmstrang", Phineas Nigellus Black insisted. "What good is a Hogwarts diploma to him if he is in Azkaban?"

Albus stirred the jug unnecessarily. _Not this dream again._

“He met the werewolf because of you, in the first place,” the portrait reminded him. “I never would have made such a ludicrous decision. Absurd on its face.”

The portrait suddenly changed. Phineas Nigellus was only the most recent addition to the long line of people who were displeased with Albus.

"That's right," 16-year-old Severus said to him, "but you didn't care about that either. You told me you needed the money, but I know better now. You have a war to win. You did not care about me, but you did not care about them either."

"I can't afford to care," Albus explained patiently. "Many more lives are on the line, Mr. Snape. If I care about the few then who would care about the many? You are clever enough to understand that, aren’t you?"

“So because I am clever, I am supposed to accept it, I am supposed to be a willing sacrifice? Should I have been less clever?” Severus jeered. “Would you have protected me then?”

The portrait changed again. "And what about me?" Said Myrtle, in a whiny sort of voice. She was petulant, as if complaining about something silly. "You know, if anyone had asked me, I would have told you how I had died," she sobbed. "Now everyone will tease me forever!"

She soon became incoherent with tears and Albus knew what would happen. It was always the same. Gellert was next.

"Everybody thinks you're a hero, Albus," he said, "but I know you. Yes, you defeated me and saved thousands of people, but I know you. You made me. You gave me so many useful ideas. You even helped me find the wand... And now I am rotting away in the prison fortress we had planned together and you bask in the glory of your reputation. You were as bad as I was, Albie."

It had been 30 years since he had defeated Gellert, and became the hero of the wizarding world. Albus looked at the portrait decisively. “It brought me no comfort. It was in the interest of justice, Gellert.”

"But Justice has been sated when it comes to you, hasn't it? The self-appointed protector of the greater good," Tom Riddle, who had elbowed Gellert out of the portrait, asked, his derision obvious.

Tom joined the cast of Albus’s recurrent dream when he found out the child he met at the orphanage and warned against misbehaving had considered making seven Horcruxes.

"You will lose everyone to me, because you are too self-righteous and cowardly to do what must be done. It is a shame – I could've been your next Gellert." For a brief moment, Tom Riddle appeared to wear a seductive look on his face, but the effect disappeared as soon as Albus looked again. "But you are too noble now – it is a shame I wasn’t born earlier… you are an old man now, it takes more than this to win you over. But it's too late for you. You never had a family, and he will have no legacy, and soon you will be dead, and I will live forever, and no one will defeat me, so really – shouldn't you have stayed with Gellert, since the greater good has not been served? Wouldn't the two of you together have been better than me?"

Albus put the glass of pumpkin juice to his lips, to occupy his mouth, and he did not wake up.

Tom Riddle became Ariana, and Ariana never spoke. She only smiled at him benevolently, more peaceful than she had ever been in life, and he woke up with the words on the tip of his tongue, as he always had.

He could never wake himself up before she came but he could never speak with her, even in his dream. And the dream kept getting longer with every child he failed. Even Gellert had once been a child… He had been haunted by that dream for 80 years. Was it any wonder he never could forget about the Stone? Now fate had given him a chance with one of these children, to right the wrong, and to win the war, and yet his heart could never wander very far away from the Stone, the most mystical and mythical of the hallows. He could not afford to care about the few, because the few had contained his sister, whom he could not bear to care about between his morning tea and his evening pumpkin juice, and so he cared about the many, and now that he was over a 100 years old, he had accumulated so many “few”s, that he could not settle for less than complete annihilation of the threat, no matter the cost. He had only this to say in his own defense: he was not Voldemort.

Albus knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. He yawned hugely and rubbed his eyes, searching in the dark with his foot for his puffskein fur slippers. 

It was just as well that he could not sleep, because he needed to do yet another thing too deplorable for daylight. In their excitement, Lily and her friends who had burst into his office in various states of impairment, inexperienced as they were, failed to take care of a potential breach, and it had to be mended. That this meant paying a visit to Walburga Black was serendipitous - judging from her son’s perfect recall of wizarding family trees, Albus hoped the visit would solve another problem that had been plaguing him for decades.

He was fortunate, also, in that Regulus had given him a helping hand. The Order’s store of Polyjuice was kept in a secret room within the Headmaster’s chambers, and Albus filled a large goblet with the muddy potion and dipped the final ingredient - a nail he had clipped - into it. It frothed mightily and then turned vivid red and smooth, and Albus took a sip ( _to your good health, Regulus,_ he thought), filled a flask, and transfigured his robes into something a Black would wear.

The protective enchantments on the House of Black were no match for him. The cool night air gave him energy and clarity, and he listed his tasks. First: Rummage through their records of the old Wizarding family lines. Second: Take care of the elf. Third: Have a word with Mistress Black.

The Black house was spacious with many rooms, but finally, Albus found what seemed to be a study. _Accio wizarding genealogy records,_ he said, and a treasure trove of long-forgotten knowledge presented itself to him, from among the antiquated books, statues, and other artefacts that had been obsessively and meticulously dusted, maintained, and restored. Albus briefly pitied the poor elf who was tasked with this burden.

Phineas Nigelus’s portrait was thankfully empty - the former headmaster preferred to spend his nights at Hogwarts (and to keep the information Albus was now prying for, for himself). Albus leafed through the yellowing pages and finally, he found confirmation of a long-standing theory.

The Elder Wand had long become detached from the Peverell line, as Albus knew full well. The Cloak had ended up with Potter, the last of a long line of incredibly long-lived wizards - save, of course, for James himself. The Stone, the most tantalizing of all Hallows, was still no more than myth. The second brother’s line was impossible to trace throughout history, and Albus had nearly given up, until Regulus unwittingly told him there were chroniclers of the race’s deterioration who, with no knowledge of the reality of the Hallows, still held invaluable information.

The yellowing parchment told him plainly: The Stone belonged to Slytherin, and the Slytherins became the Gaunts. Albus realized with a jolt that it was very possible that he had seen the Stone before, on Tom Riddle’s finger. _But he doesn’t know - if he had known, he would have been on the Hallows’ trail, like you._ Albus itched to apparate to the Gaunt House, but first he had to mend the breach. He took another sip of Polyjuice, swirling the peppery potion in his mouth as he did.

He knocked on Kreacher’s cupboard. The reflexes that had once enabled him to win the Elder Wand from Gellert were still intact, and Kreacher was paralyzed before he could scream. “I am not Regulus, you’re right,” he confirmed, before the wide-open, horrified eyes that stared at him helplessly. “I am an intruder - Albus Dumbledore. You might have heard of me - you must know me as the crackpot lover of Mudbloods and Muggles. We have met before - I restored Regulus’s memory and I am on his side. Kreacher, if you love Regulus, you will not wake up your mistress. Blink once if you understand.”

Kreacher blinked, and Albus lifted the spell.

“Regulus’s own master, Lord Voldemort, tried to kill you. He will try again, but before he does that, I am worried that he will try to use you to get to him - he will try to force your mistress to order you, again, to lead another to him. He wants to kill him. If you want Regulus to live and be free you must choose him over your Mistress. I know you will be forced to punish yourself, and I can only promise to try to heal your self-inflicted injuries.”

He paused, and Kreacher said nothing.

“I am going to make your mistress believe her son has been here, and begged her to help him. I humbly ask that you don’t tell her I am merely Albus Dumbledore and not Regulus, and that when the time comes, you confirm her account to Lord Voldemort and his acolytes. Do you promise?”

Kreacher nodded, his terror palpable - whether for himself or for Regulus he did not know.

“You’re a very good elf,” Albus reassured him. He then walked silently into the master bedroom, put the most powerful somnolence charm on Orion, walked back out, and savouring the athletic eighteen year old body he inhabited, stormed into the master bedroom again, raising hell as he did. “Mother!” He shouted. “He is after me, Severus and Lily saved me - you have to help me! He’s going to kill me!”

Next to her inert mass of a husband, Walburga woke up and started screaming immediately. “Where the hell have you been, you ungrateful blood traitor?!” She shouted, her eyes bulging. “Your brother’s trial is coming up, and you frolick with filth and Mudbloods instead of being with your own kind!”

“The Dark Lord is after me!” Albus shouted.

“You were supposed to be the good one, Regulus, but ever since he sunk his claws into you, you have given me nothing but grief! Oh, the mother of a werewolf and a blood traitor! You have made a fool out of me, Regulus! You are a disgrace to the name of wizard, just like your brother and your cousin!”

She wept as she screamed, a snot bubble on her nose threatening to burst, and Albus tried very hard not to laugh.

“I have to leave England,” he said, trying his best to sound desperate.

“I should turn you over to him right now,” Walburga wept. “I am too good, it’s my fault, I’ve always been too good…”

Before her very eyes, “Regulus” turned invisible, and made sure to make as big a mess as he could as he left. If ever she should betray her son to Voldemort, she would tell the truth as Albus had just made her believe it, and it would naturally sound like a hallucination born of grief. He could only hope people would feel sorry for her, having one son in prison and one missing.

Outside the house and again in the cool night air, Albus felt it all coming together. His life finally made sense - the search for Hallows, the lost cause of his youth, put him on a Horcrux’s trail. He could finally tell himself: _Your youth has not been in vain._ He decided he must wait for the potion to wear off before inviting Severus along to the House of Gaunt.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kami, since you don't have an account - thank you for your thoughtful comment, it made me really happy!

Severus barely managed to keep his eyes open at the Death Eater meeting. He knew how to feign interest – _don’t put your elbows on the table, stay_ _upright, and follow him with_ _your eyes. Or else_. The Muggle had taught Severus that – the Muggle liked having an audience for his rants, and he pounced on shifts in attention. Severus could repeat what he had heard verbatim without taking in a single word. He didn’t care about the proceedings at the meeting any more than he cared about the Muggle’s rants about the factories closing down and about the Indians and the Pakis and his freak wife and his freeloader freak son (Severus would never forget that time he managed to squeeze in all of his favorite subjects into one sentence: “I should have married a proper woman who would have respected me, and had a son who wasn’t too good to work in the mill with his da’, not that they would let us work, shites closed down the mill, and not a care for us, first they make us work night shifts like Pakis and then they take our job - Eileen, get off your arse and get me a pint, and Severus, you sod off. It’s my fault for letting you name him, no wonder he’s a fucking fairy”), and as far as his spying duties went, Dumbledore’s Pensieve would do the trick even if Severus fell asleep. _Useful, that_ , Severus noted begrudgingly, as the Death Eaters competed to demonstrate their devotion under the unflinching gaze of the Dark Lord and his two lieutenants.

Severus knew that Lucius and Bellatrix were both unwitting traitors. As far as he could tell, they were planning a move to plant someone in the Daily Prophet, or at least get close to a reporter, close enough to persuade them to publish a more balanced, nuanced view on the Ministry’s new methods. Torturing Death Eaters simply for daring to oppose… Barbaric. _No, no, we have you for that,_ Severus thought as he joined in the roaring applause.

Internally, he marveled at his disgust at what he had not so long ago craved – they were all one, one single being with a single voice and a single desire. The Dark Lord somehow convinced them all that they must be one, never stray, lest they be punished – and even that the punishment was well-earned. _Even Regulus said Rodolphus deserved it,_ Severus remembered. He had said so, on the floor, next to Kreacher who was sleeping like a log. _You must believe it too,_ Severus scolded himself, and brought his attention back to the present moment.

Lucius took the lead next. “Has anyone,“ he asked, “heard anything at all that would lead to the whereabouts of the Traitor Black?” Severus joined the hooting and jeering that ensued. _We kept it a secret at Hogwarts too, this is not so hard_. He noticed that some of them spat on the floor. Lucius looked at them with unmasked contempt. _He was much more patient with you when he explained to you that_ _you must not do that_. Lucius used to think that only Muggles could act like this, Muggles and filthy animals, but evidently, he was wrong – and he did not seem happy that the Dark Lord now admitted such riffraff.

“As you’ve ordered me to, My Lord, I visited Walburga Black”, said Vincent Crabbe, a Death Eater with a gorilla-like physique Lucius had brought along, probably on the assumption that he was too dim to commit treason. He was pure-blooded, cross-eyed, and it took him longer to finish a sentence than it took Severus to grind moonstones to a fine powder. _Thick as pig shit, as the Muggle calls such people._ Tobias always thought he was smarter than everyone, and woe betide one who dared to disagree. The Dark Lord interrogated Crabbe, who seemed like the entire content of his mind could be taken in at a single glance, and Severus wished he could perform Legilimency as well ( _Regulus, where are you when I need you_ ) – he found himself feigning a lack of a sudden uptick in his level of personal involvement. Not the slightest shift in focus, respiration rate, or heartbeat. He had prepared for this.

“Your poor auntie seems to have lost her mind, Bella,” the Dark Lord said to her with derision, as though expecting her to agree that concern for a family member was an obscene idea. “She believes that the traitor was at her house, that he told her that Severus here and the mudblood Potter saved him from me – and the elf confirmed this. Severus, care to comment?”

For the first time, Bellatrix did not glower, did not dare to call him a mangy, untrustworthy social climbing half-blood as he answered. “My Lord – someone did a very good job confunding her if she believes I could accomplish that.” The others chuckled or smirked.

The Dark Lord did not question Severus further – he knew this did not happen, the traitor had left and then disappeared. However, Black's mother somehow knew that Potter’s widow was involved.

“Do you have other relatives we have not questioned, Bellatrix?”

Bellatrix’s answer was barely audible, and she mumbled it into her hand. “I have not called them my uncle or sister in years, My Lord -“

The Dark Lord’s expression seemed to convey to her that he did not care whom she considered family. All he cared about was who Regulus might consider family.

“My uncle Alphard, and my sister Andromeda – in blood alone, My Lord, I assure you!” She hastened to add.

“Very good, Bella,” he said, and she was relieved.

Severus knew they would get to the branches that fell off the family tree eventually, and he was proud of himself for knowing that would happen. The seat next to him was still empty as though Regulus was merely a student at Hogwarts, stalking his peers and telling the Death Eaters what sort of food the children of Ministry officials and unsympathetic reporters and known Dumbledore associates liked and what position they played in Quidditch.

Severus had another idea he resisted so much that it had to be right.

“My Lord,” he found himself saying. It was completely out of line – he was only a rank-and-file Death Eater, who had barely been marked. Lucius raised his eyebrow and frowned, evidently hoping that whatever Severus was about to say would not tarnish his own reputation like Regulus’s betrayal had.

“Yes, young Severus?” His master said in a dangerous voice. _If you kept the small rules, you could break big ones._ He had just broken a small rule. _If you break small rules, do it only to call attention to your own devotion to the cause,_ Severus thought.

“My Lord, we need a spy at Hogwarts, or at least someone who will recruit young followers – as Lucius has so kindly done for me.” Again, he felt the others’ eyes on him. “Let me serve you there,” he said. “My Lord, I can serve you better there than he has, I can do more for you there than at the Department of Mysteries. I beg you will let me take his place.”

When he left, he was lightheaded with disbelief. _Did I just sign up to become a teacher? I must love you more than I thought I did, Regulus._ But it was brilliant, brilliant: He would be the only so-called Death Eater there, no longer watched by Rookwood – and even teaching had to be a better use of his time than pretending he could not craft spells. He did not admit it even to himself, but he had to know how Dumbledore could accomplish everything he had accomplished – undoing Voldemort’s memory charm, regrowing an arm, the Pensieve…

***

Severus sat in the overly spacious living room with a bowl of soup that had long gone cold, and wondered what the hell Dumbledore would say when he found out his spy had volunteered to become a teacher. They had ridiculously young defense teachers before, but never this ridiculously young. That said, nobody could argue that he did not have an excellent track record defending himself against attacks, he noted to himself, not without irony, least of all Dumbledore. _And it was I who had stolen the diary and who managed to figure out how to breed a basilisk without dying – if only I had been clever enough not to want to become a Death Eater in the first place. And hiring me would not be the most outrageous thing he had ever done for the sake of the war…_

Severus decided the students of Hogwarts could certainly do worse than him. Even the rumored curse on the job did not scare him. He told himself he was probably already cursed by the looks of it, and he did not plan to stay on as a teacher for more than a year. He could not consider the possibility that it would be more than a year until he saw them again. _If I really am cursed I will teach forever,_ he told himself.

The Phoenix Patronus burst in through the window, and spoke to him in Dumbledore’s voice. “Come, I think I might have located another one. Gaunt House, Little Hangleton.”

Severus scowled. Surely, the Great Albus Dumbledore could think of a less dangerous method to deliver messages? Even Muggles had invented telephones. _A Patronus…_ so showy, and such a giveaway. But Severus had to admit it had advantages – it could not lie, for one, and he could appreciate that Dumbledore’s method for making sure the Order members were being truthful demanded them to think of who they loved, and to know whom they were fighting for. The Death Eaters were not allowed to cast a Patronus, and Severus knew why – the official reason was “the Dementors are our allies,” but Severus suspected that the true reason was that Lord Voldemort could not have his followers realizing that he gave them no true happiness – never mind that Voldemort had branded everyone and could demand that they show up at any minute if he had anything to say to them.

The Phoenix Patronus had evaporated into a silver mist and vanished minutes earlier, while Severus allowed himself to get lost in thought about Patroni and Dark Marks and lying. He stepped out of the flat, where Apparition was impossible, and looked around him. _Too many Muggles. Why are we in London?_ He found an empty street to Disapparate from and materialized 200 miles away, next to Dumbledore. “I am glad you came, Severus,” Dumbledore said softly, and Severus remembered why he despised him in the first place, and he did not care that Dumbledore was a skilled legilimens in his own right when he thought to himself: _It all worked out pretty well for you, has it not?_ He did not want to tell him he appointed himself to be a teacher. _You might have been willing to let Potter and Black torture me, but not Voldemort, I hope._ Dumbledore still allowed people to have their own thoughts and Severus planned to take advantage of this freedom to the fullest.

The Gaunt House was dilapidated, unspeakably filthy, and uniquely littered in snake corpses. Severus was shocked that he lived to see a house in a worse state than the Snape House. If houses could be affected by the Dementor’s Kiss, Severus thought – this is what they would look like. _At least all the houses in Spinner’s End looked like ours,_ he thought. Other than this house, Little Hangleton seemed rather a posh place, even if it was decidedly Muggle. Severus could not understand what he was doing here, and what could this house possibly have to do with Voldemort.

He must have looked perplexed, or perhaps Dumbledore had used Legilimency, since he explained: “I have it on good authority that Lord Voldemort’s father lived in this village, and that his mother and grandfather and uncle lived in this very house.”

It occurred to Severus that he never wondered where Lord Voldemort had come from. He was just a fixture, since Severus had entered Hogwarts. The Slytherins talked about him with hope and admiration, Slughorn made sure to give very thick clues that he knew from the beginning that this person would accomplish great things. _Slughorn,_ Severus thought with a shudder. _Will I have to work side by side with him?_

Dumbledore opened the door without touching it, and they walked into the hovel. The air was thick with the stench of dead, decayed rats, and Severus felt like he was breathing in dust by the lungful. It was almost hard to see, but one feature of the room was impossible to miss: On the floor, next to a dead raven, there was a gold ring, encrusted with a black stone. It was the only thing that wasn’t covered in a thick layer of dust. _How?_ Severus wondered, but through the corner of his eye, he saw that Dumbledore was about to do something very stupid. “NO!” He shouted, but Dumbledore was too fast – he had already summoned it, it had already touched his ring finger. Severus drew his own wand and attempted with all his might to pull the ring from Dumbledore’s finger, and finally, after a long minute of exertion, he managed it, and he used the momentum to launch it to the furthest corner of the room.

Albus was paler than Severus had ever seen him. “THIS THING IS CURSED, CAN’T YOU SEE?!” He shouted. It must have killed the unsuspecting raven; it must have destroyed even the dust that covered every square centimeter of this place. How could Dumbledore himself, of all people, have fallen for this?

***

 _It is real._ Albus tried to convince himself, for years – decades – that there was no such thing as the resurrection stone. But he never believed it, and its allure never lessened. He had been waiting for this moment since he was 17 – it had been almost a full century since he met Gellert, since they planned to find the Hallows together, and since Ariana died and he started yearning for the stone for altogether different reasons. When at last, at very long last, he found a lead, his intuition told him: _This is it. It’s there, or it does not exist._ He did not go right away. He has waited this long, what’s one more day? Instead, he wrote down what he wanted to say to her.

> _Ariana, I am sorry I brought him into your home, where you should have been protected. I am sorry I wanted to leave you and do great things, and that I resented you. You were right, he was a monster, Ariana, and he turned me into one. I made sure justice was served, little sister, for you and for the world. And I never forgot you, not for a single day. I have been dreaming about you for ninety-nine years. I love you, and I should have loved you then. Ab too, and he never forgot how you used to feed the goats with him. He still barely talks to me. Please forgive me, even though I don’t deserve it._

The note was in his pocket, but he had memorized this paragraph, which he had worked on harder than he did his trailblazing article about dragon blood, or the earth-shattering interview he gave the prophet, decrying the Ministry’s recent anti-Muggle-born legislation in 1930, which was thankfully repealed, or the improvements he had made to the Patronus charm.

The rest of the house did not exist. The rest of the world did not exist. Even Voldemort did not exist. Only the stone existed, and it was here inside the ring. He summoned it, and it came closer to him, and it went on his ring finger –

A chorus of demons appeared before him, and they were all him. “You are not the Master of Death,” the said in unison. “You won the wand from the previous one, but you are out of time. You will never unite the Hallows – you will never see your little sister. She is at peace, and you seek to disturb her to ease your guilty conscience. You have made all the wrong choices, Albus. The stone will never be yours.”

He was helpless to defend against this assault on his psyche. Mutely, he screamed: _Let me see her, let me see her before I die._ He had sacrificed so much; he had already suffered. _I lost my family. I lost my true love. I abandoned my ambition. I sacrificed everything. I was not selfish. I was not a coward._

The demons started to recede, though they did not relent. “Not everything, Albus. You have not given your life. Only the lives of others. You are going to die here, and it will all be lost. Such will be the fate of the greatest wizard. Tom Riddle will win.”

“Over my magic,” Dumbledore vowed, as wizarding children do, as Ariana used to – before.

Then, as soon as they appeared, they were gone, and Albus realized he was on the floor, sweating and shivering as though he was bitten by a Nigerian dragon-mosquito. All he could see was Severus crouching over him, his nose almost touching Albus’s. He was not sure if this was real, or another hallucination. The ring glimmered in the corner. It was close, still within reach, but not to Albus. He had no strength, magical or otherwise, to attempt to fetch it again.

“I never had children,” he whispered.

“WHAT?!” Severus shouted at him.

“I never had a family. I lost mine, and I never tried again.”

“Why did you touch this thing?!”

“Neither has my brother – I don’t know why.”

Severus slapped him. Nothing changed. This was not a hallucination, only his last chance.

“I will be forgotten if the war is lost, Severus. The first-years now, they don’t remember Grindelwald, their parents don’t either.”

Severus let go of Albus’s head, which he had been supporting (as Albus learned when it bumped against the wall), and started pacing frantically.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” he screamed. “You said there’s a Horcrux here, and the next thing I know you put on a cursed ring?!”

“The ring was the Horcrux, and unless I’m very much mistaken, it no longer is, but we will find out in due time. You must help me get back to Hogwarts and you must take the ring with you.”

Severus now stopped pacing and only stood over him, and Albus remarked to himself that Severus stood taller, more confident, even now, in this situation, which would have shaken anyone. He was oddly impressive, and nothing like the first-year who wrote essays at a third year level but did not speak up in the classroom.

“And Severus, if I don’t make it, you are an extraordinary wizard. I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

Albus felt truly sick, sicker than he’d ever been. He heard Severus muttering to himself, as he summoned a box for the ring that would be safe to touch to transport it to Hogwarts, gingerly put it in his pocket, magicked the dust off himself and off Albus, and wrapped Albus’s arm around his shoulder to prepare to Apparate them both to the gate: “The Great Albus Dumbledore, putting on a cursed ring, the Order truly has no chance at all, and what if I hadn’t been supposedly extraordinary? Would it have been okay then? By the way, you are going to give me the Defense post next year.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta who insists on remaining anonymous! I don't know what betas traditionally do but if they're in charge of convincing authors to publish chapters instead of tossing their laptops in the bin and then doing meth, my beta is the best in all the land! If you don't like the chapter, you can blame them!
> 
> CW: Homophobia

Lily and “Reginald” had established a sort of routine. An uneasy, absurd routine, but a routine all the same. Still free of the need to worry about money, they made frequent visits to the library and learned what they could learn on their own about Muggle science. Regulus even figured out how to use the Underground. They saw films, read books, and waited for news from Severus, who never wrote.

It wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be, but Regulus started to feel like a caged lion. For weeks, Lily had been the only person who had had a conversation with, and there were only so many things they could talk about before they reached the uncomfortable subject of James’s death.

Regulus remembered a lot now, and he knew why he was on the run, and he remembered having conversations about horrible things James had done, and Sirius had done, even if he could not remember exactly what these things were. He obsessively tried to piece it all together at night, and he heard Lily crying sometimes through the wall, but they never talked about it.

“I wish we could at least get the Prophet,” she said one morning as she poured milk into her tea.

“It’s a rag,” Regulus answered.

“I know it’s a rag,” she sniped at him, “but at least we could have something. I was just trying to make conversation, anyway!”

“And I was just answering what you said!”

“I don’t need you to tell me it’s a rag!” She retorted, and what had started as a morning cup of tea threatened to become a fight. Regulus left the table and slammed his bedroom door behind him. “His Majesty could put his plate in the sink!” Lily yelled at him, and without bothering to keep her voice down, said to herself: “Perhaps if I really was an elf he’d care about me.”

She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. _What am I doing with this useless, lazy prat?_ She asked herself. She made a point of not washing the pile of dishes that had swelled alarmingly.

She heard him pacing in his room, even grunting, but did not dignify this behaviour by asking what it was about.

Finally, he came out, looking like a man who could not believe he’d been reduced to this.

“Err, Lily?”

“Come out to apologize?”

“Never mind.”

More pacing followed. Even the sounds of his breathing grated her nerves. Finally, he came out again, looking sheepish.

“Just tell me what Muggles have instead of Quidditch.”

She had to admit this was not what she expected to hear. “I’ll tell you if you do the bleeding dishes,” she said, laughing. _Would Sev forgive me if I deliver Regulus back to him, a football fan?_

A clean sink later, Lily agreed to volunteer the information: “We have football.” Before Regulus could come up with another extremely literal and disgusting guess what football is, she added: “We call it because it’s a ball you kick with your feet. It’s the biggest sport in the world. I don’t know much about it myself, but I know a match is 90 minutes, and you have eleven players and one ball, and you have to kick the ball between the other team’s goal posts, like the Chasers, and one player is like a Keeper.”

“One ball?!” He asked, dismayed. Surely, even Muggles could keep track of more than one ball. “What’s the fun in that?”

“More fun than pretending the Quaffle makes a difference when a Snitch is 150 points -”

“That’s not true, there was the -”

Lily had listened to enough Quidditch talk to know what Regulus was going to say: “One game in Brazil where they lost even though they caught the Snitch, yeah, I know. If the other positions are so important, how come both you and James were seekers?”

“And I beat him,” Regulus reminded her, miffed that she cut him off mid-sentence.

“And you let him die.”

Both of them looked away. Regulus refused to say he was sorry, and Lily refused to take her accusation back. “You’ll probably say you don’t remember what happened again, won’t you?”

“Just tell me more about football, please.”

“I don’t know too much about it, but we can go to a pub and see if there’s a match on, if you’re willing to have a drink with Muggles.”

Regulus hadn’t used magic in weeks. If he could live with that, he could have a drink with Muggles, he felt. He was desperate for something else to do, to distract himself from the constant intrusion of fragments of memories that made no sense. The fact remained, however, that they were sure there was no way Regulus could carry a conversation with Muggles without coming off as extremely odd. Only the Muggle-raised had been trained to be quiet about basic facts of life, after all. But Lily had an idea. “Just follow my lead,” she said.

That evening, they found a nearby pub and walked in. “So people come to places like this to see the matches on the telly, if they can’t see them live,” she explained.

“Telly?”

“It’s like the movie screen but smaller.”

She approached a bloke in Manchester colors who seemed friendly. “Excuse me.”

“What I can do for you, love?” He asked.

“This is Reginald.” She decided against trying to explain her relation to him. “He recently suffered a nasty blow to the head and I am taking care of him. He’s forgotten everything, though - doesn’t know anything, it’s made him dumber than a pile of bricks.” She was delighted to see Regulus got angry on Reginald’s behalf.

“He used to be a big football fan but I don’t know anything about the game, so I thought maybe someone could explain it to him.”

The incredulous man looked at her with his eyebrows near the top of his head, but figured there was no harm in what she had asked for. He explained the game to Regulus, who listened closely, and Lily was relieved that he now knew better than to ask questions like “Only ninety minutes?” or “Where are the broomsticks?”. Soon enough, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and even joined the cheers tentatively.

At half-time, he remembered to ask who he was supporting. “Do you really not remember who you used to support before you did your head in?” He looked to Lily as though she was holding a lifeline and so she said “Man U,” which happened to be her dad’s team. “Good lad,” the man approved. “But this match is Liverpool/Arsenal. If you support the Red Devils you’re supporting Arsenal in this match.”

Regulus could follow this logic. “Your lad’s quick on the uptake,” the other patrons commented. “He doesn’t look like a nutter.”

“He’s not a nutter, he’s only had a nasty injury,” Lily explained. “Made him a bit of a twit is all.”

Everything seemed to be going well for a change - Regulus finally lost himself in something, and spoke to someone who wasn’t her, and did not make a prat out of himself. Lily never thought she would see him in a pack of Muggles, cheering for Muggle players. The other patrons were amused as he marveled at the players’ running speed and stamina.

He sighed and cussed with everyone when Arsenal lost.

“Cocksucking aresholes,” the man in Manchester colors said to Regulus. Lily pricked up her ears. She prayed that Regulus would take it in good humour, like he had the jabs about his head injury. “I reckon one of the poofs in Liverpool is taking it from the referee, that’s why he pretended not to see that foul.”

But Regulus did not find this funny. “Say it again,” he threatened.

The man changed his demeanor almost immediately, but unmistakably, and Lily said “Reginald,” in that low voice she used when he was being dumb to a catastrophic degree, but Regulus did not care.

“What do you care, huh? Are you a Liverpool supporter all of a sudden or are you a cocksucking nancy boy?”

Regulus had never heard this term before, but he knew it was not intended as a compliment, and he made it known that he was not a Liverpool supporter.

“So a nancy boy, then? Didn’t get that knocked out of you?” The furious man said, and people were staring.

“Let’s go,” Lily pleaded with him, but he again did not listen.

“What’s it to you if I am a cocksucking nancy boy,” Regulus demanded, and Lily knew what would happen and tried to intervene, just in time to get hit in the face instead of Regulus.

“You hit a pregnant woman, you slimy bit of Muggle filth,” Regulus said without raising his voice.

“You let a pregnant woman take it for you, fairy,” the man shouted.

“He’s the bleeding father!” Lily shouted, clamouring for a way to escape without magic. They were outnumbered and overpowered, and Lily had to pull Regulus by his arm. “We can’t use you know what,” she said, as menacing looks escorted them as they backed out of the pub slowly. They Disapparated as soon as it was safe to do so, and Regulus kicked a tree under a street lamp. Lily checked her face in a car mirror, and was not surprised to find a black eye.

She dragged him up the stairs to their flat, and it was only there that he noticed the state of her face. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Sorry I asked, then!”

“Why couldn’t you be quiet?!”

“Me?! Did you hear the way he spoke to me?”

“Yes, I did! So what?! You could have gotten us killed!”

“All you ever talk about is how the Muggles are alright and the first one I talk to thinks it’s down to him who people have sex with!”

“Oh, very nice! That’s rich, coming from you! When did you stop caring about house elves more than people? Did you ever correct people like your mum, who want me dead?”

“Don’t bring them into this, Lily! I know everything I need to know about Muggles, I never should have agreed to this stupid plan!”

Lily put ice on her eye, and winced. “You don’t know anything! You don’t even remember who you are! Yes, this Muggle’s a wanker, so what?!”

“And Severus’s father, and your sister -”

“And your brother, and your mother, and -”

“Your husband!”

Lily took the ice off her eye and glowered.

“My husband was only like this because of Sirius,” she said, as cold as the ice in her hand.

“No, he wasn’t, it’s the other way around.” Regulus never told her - first it was to spare her, and then because he didn’t remember, but he remembered now, and he was too angry with Lily to spare her feelings.

“Well I know better than to ask! You’ll just say you don’t remember! Convenient, innit?” She taunted him. She did not feel that he had any right to be angry with her - she had now saved him twice, and he still never apologized for how callous he has been.

“He told me everything at the cave, Lily. He said he and Sirius had only made each other worse. That he hated Severus because of you, because you liked him, and he thought what he did to him was funny until he died. I know my brother. He only ever did anything to get a reaction. What Sirius did, he did because he thought James would like it. And James did, Lily, he told me, he said he was glad they’d finally broken Severus. And I tried to keep him from jumping in the water, I told him you were pregnant, but he only told me to get off him.”

Certain details seemed to return to Regulus as he spoke, but Lily seemed incredulous. “It’s true,” he told her. “You thought Sirius was the bad influence, that you could have changed James if he had lived? You couldn’t have.”

“You still could have saved him, if you didn’t care more about your elf -”

“Kreacher barely survived the first time, and even that was because I told him to come home,” Regulus said. “And it was my fault he was there in the first place. Of course I care about my elf more than I do your loser, spell-thief husband. Why are you here, if you hate me so much?”

Lily observed that Regulus adopted Severus’s way of lowering his voice the more his words stung.

“You wouldn’t last a day alone out here,” she said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Because of Severus, alright?!” The colour left Regulus’s face as soon as she said his name. “And I have to say I have no idea what he sees in you. You won’t even pick up a pen and write to him, you’ve been in Muggle London for weeks and you still think they’re all filth -”

“Only stupid thugs who have a problem with who I love - what business is that of theirs?”

Lily had to cede the point that this description applied to many a Muggle, but this didn’t mean she lost the argument.

“But what difference does it make?” She asked, too angry to let go. “Your mother doesn’t want you seeing Severus. He had to promise he would leave you before she agreed to tell Kreacher to take us to you, did you know that? Did you know that Sirius called him a poof, just like that Muggle? You think wizards are alright about that stuff but it’s just because you’re a Black and nobody criticizes the rich purebloods!”

Regulus seemed like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Severus did,” he said, with pain in his voice.

“Merlin, Reg, are you alright?”

“I remember now - before everything, in Romania, I wanted to marry him, but it’s not going to happen, I know it won’t.”

 _Is that why he wouldn’t write him?_ Lily asked herself.

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“There is no chance. We don’t talk about it, do we? But he’ll never make it out alive. This plan was stupid. And he never writes - and even if he lives, look at me, Lily. I don’t remember what we were doing in Romania in the first place. It’s almost like I’m not a real person. Why would he take me back?”

“He’ll marry you, of course he will -”

“You know, in Romania, I remember I was upset because this woman was interested in him, and he didn’t believe me.”

“Sounds about right,” Lily said with a smile.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if it doesn’t work out, Lily. If he finds someone better, who isn’t useless without magic or without his elf, or he doesn’t want to be with someone with half a brain anymore - or if he dies -”

The ice melted into cold water, and made a noise as it dripped onto the floor.

“That won’t happen,” Lily promised. “He’s a survivor, you know that. You do know that, right?”

Regulus closed his eyes. “I know. But it’s the Dark Lord, Lily, not my idiot brother.”

“All I know is we would have known if something had happened. And you’ll be alright, and he’ll marry you.”

It was pointless to argue, Regulus felt. She didn’t know what it felt like to have memories that made no sense attacking her, to not know why she felt what she felt, and to be unable to believe it when an explanation finally presented itself, usually when he was trying to sleep.

“I think you need to write to him, Reg,” she urged him.

“I will,” he relented.

“But, Reg, do you swear you had no choice? Do you swear it wasn’t revenge? That you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I’m not Sirius.”

That seemed to be enough of an answer.

There was nothing left of the ice now.

“Football’s a good game, but I’m not supporting Manchester. Their fans are wankers.”

“My dad’s a fan,” Lily reminded him, “and I am sure they’ll do fine without you. But you’re from London, so it’ll be Arsenal, and they lost. Serves you right.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gratuitous gore that doesn't advance the plot at all, I hope you enjoy it, but you can definitely skip it, I was very angry when I wrote it and writing a Sirius POV made me feel dirty.

_Prongs is dead, Prongs is dead, Prongs is dead…_ It’s only thought in your mind. The dementors are prying out happy memories only to drain them, only to remind you that they are memories, that it’s all over, only to corrupt them. The boy you met on the train transforms in your mind’s eye into a corpse, and it's burned or drowned or bludgeoned to death, and then you are alone in a memory, a stranded child, a stranded teen, grinning ear to ear and looking toward him, but he is not there. _They all think I killed him, how could I have, I have been bitten because he died – Padfoot and Prongs, brothers forever, and I would bite him? No, no, this has something to do with that slag and her precious greaseball. Everywhere I've been, Lily and Snivellus, from the first trip on the Express to here_.

The first trip on the Express … A Dementor's raspy voice says to you: _The boy you met there, so confident and carefree, is why you were a lion and not a filthy snake, like the lot of them._ The hat felt how you wanted to be with him, to be like him, and it felt how you pictured mother's face when she heard you were made a Gryffindor – and it gave you what you wanted, because you deserved to get what you wanted. You strutted to the Gryffindor table, relishing the disappointment on the Head of Slytherin's face ( _You’re not getting this Black,_ you thought), and waited for Potter to be sorted. It felt like it took forever – you wondered why P is so far down the alphabet. You had tried to befriend the girl when she'd been sorted – but she had turned you down. And who was she, to turn _you_ down?

 _James is dead, James is dead, and they all think you killed him…_ Some Gryffindor she was, flashing a sad smile towards the ugly kid who was dressed in used, worn robes, _who thought he was someone who could answer back to us… I should have known. I should've known she wasn't on our side. Somebody who was on our side would have understood that brothers do everything for one another and don't suddenly start caring about other people, not that my blood brother realized that,_ Sirius thought, and he remembered that Regulus also sided with the greaseball – somehow. What were their dots doing, practically overlapping? You remember how angry you used to be: You used to think: _He’s fucking your brother_. _Snivellus confounded you and he’s fucking your brother…_ You should have killed him, you realize, since you ended up here anyway. That’s what James gets for saving him? You could have killed him in the hospital wing and they would have been none the wiser, stupid, stupid, stupid. _And everyone believes you killed James, and you never would have, you would sooner die - you only wanted to kill the slimy little poofter snake, and who cared about him._

Prongs is dead… You can’t think of anything else, it all circles back to him. _Prongs died because he was too good to the slimeball._ Even the goody-two-shoes Lupin called him that. _Prongs is dead and Snivellus is alive, and that bitch has something to do with it. I have to get out of here, I have to find out what happened_ – you try to think, and the Dementor moves closer to you, and you can’t. _You won’t escape_ . The voice freezes your blood and clutches at your heart. _But I didn't do it,_ you think, and the chill recedes somewhat – _I would die for him,_ you think, and it recedes even further – _I have to get out –_ but it's no good, the Dementor rasps, and you remember: You have been scheduled for a kiss – a werewolf, unregistered animagus, attempted escapee – what did you expect? For Dumbledore to cover for you again? _I did not even feel the pain of the transformation. I never felt it. James is dead, and nothing matters._

The cell door opens and you see the sun. Even though it's daytime, it feels dark. A Dementor is waiting and you are led by a chain like a dog. _Like a dog._ It’s not funny anymore. You try to protest, but the chain chokes you, and you’re face to face with it, and it lowers its hood and there is nothing but a mouth under there. _You won't even be together in the afterlife and the killer will get away with it – and you deserve it, Black, because this is what happens when you try to deny what you are. You are like them, exactly like them._

You cannot close your eyes and the world is going dark as the mouth comes closer, latches onto your nose and your mouth, and all you see is the creases of the Dementor’s skin, the taste is putrid, it smelled like death – it's grabbing your shoulders with its skeletal fingers and glides above you, and your knees buckle, but you do not fall but rather you are lifted up half a foot above the ground with the Dementor…

***

Sirius could not move, he could not think, he could not feel, as memories of friendship and brotherhood and running through the forest under the moon and joining the Order were taken from him, along with everything else, and the suction was so powerful that when the Dementor detached itself from him, he was red in the face, and thoughtless, unfeeling and unmoving. He regained his pallor once the blood left his face, and his eyes did not blink or focus. The two miserable wizards who worked in Azkaban levitated him unceremoniously to where the others were, dropped him to the floor, and with his calf behind his knee and the other leg stretched out, and his head to the side, his neck no longer supporting its weight, they left him.

"All the Blacks are nutters, but this one was really something", one guard said to the other as he shut the door behind him.


	45. Chapter 45

Tom had been working the hapless so-called Grey Lady for months. He had noticed something no one else had - it was the only ghost that never spoke. House ghosts had been in charge of - well, not embodying - but upholding their house values, preserving the founders’ memory and sharing stories about generations of students past. As far as Tom could tell, judging by the ghost, Ravenclaw stood for moping glumly about the castle.

The Grey Lady was the first house ghost, the Bloody Baron joined her shortly thereafter. _She had to have been a student here,_ Tom thought, and “Hogwarts: A History” told him that she had to have been in one of the very first classes, to be made a house ghost as soon as she had.

He could not believe his luck when he found her the first place he looked: Helena Ravenclaw. Infiltrating the Ravenclaw tower turned out to be absurdly easy as well - after all, was his name not Riddle? He dedicated many nights to Helena, and he knew what she wanted above all things, he knew what he could give her that no one else had. Helena was the same as him - a founder’s descendant. The difference was that she never proved herself to be her mother’s daughter, and could never transcend her. Records of her academic performance proved that her mother’s legacy had stifled her. Tom had long observed that most women loved being told they were beautiful, but he suspected that Helena - who was striking - needed to hear something else.

“I always thought it was a waste, Helena, that you died so young and you never got to show the world how smart you are. I was so pleased to find out it was you - Helena Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady!”

“Pardon?” The ghost had said, looking almost frightened.

“Ah, it speaks!” Riddle cheered, and he shared all his troubles with her, how he never knew his parents, how isolating it had been to be a founder’s heir (“and you had her for a mother, Helena! You are so brave!”), and how he just knew that she was special, how he wished they could be together.

“When I die, I’ll become a ghost. For you.”

She tried to close her ghost hand on his, and it merely passed through his hand. He did not let the unpleasant sensation affect his longing expression.

“Don’t do it, Tom, it’s horrible! And the Baron will never let us be. Oh, Tom, why couldn’t I meet someone like you when I was alive?”

_A love story? Surely not. So banal._

“Tell me where it is, Helena, and I can use it to find a way to bring you back!”

He wore her down with compliments and fantasies and promises, until she finally told him the truth. “I stole it from my mother and I buried it in the woods near where he found me,” she said, shedding ghost tears, “and where I died. Tom, you would never do that, right?”

 _Don’t drop the act, not yet,_ he told himself, as he told her all he wanted was to hug her in the flesh. _The stupid girl might be testing me, she might want to see if I stay with her even if it’s not there._

But he had given her more credit than she deserved - the Diadem was right where she said it would be, in a hollow tree trunk in Albania. The tree must have stayed alive thanks to the magical energy it fed off of. Tom removed the Diadem from the tree and he felt its power surge through him. This object was very fit to contain part of his soul. _I’ll never become a ghost, Helena._

He made his third Horcrux, and after he had graduated from Hogwarts having never exchanged another word with the Grey Lady, he was denied a teaching job, and he returned to Albania, to study the Dark Arts. He learned how to control Dementors, how to put powerful curses on objects that would make their victims die an agonizing death, even how to curse from afar, without the victim ever having to touch the cursed object. He learned how to brand people’s flesh, and how to control their minds. He perfected his legilimency, he learned how to brew addictive potions, modify memories, make people feel grateful for stopping the pain he had inflicted in the first place, and use this to ensure undying loyalty. His achievements had been unprecedented, and the knowledge that he could not be killed gave him the courage and the fortitude to experiment and to attempt magic none had attempted before. He developed the spell that allowed him to brand people with a mark he could use to summon them and hurt them.

Dumbledore had always regretted that he couldn't impress the power of love upon Tom Riddle, but as far as Tom could see, love was a weakness. Without love, Helena and the Baron would have lived. Without the hunger for love, that even death did not release her from, her ghost would never have divulged her secret. Love had made Bellatrix willingly turn herself into a servant. He promised the half-blood love, and the half-blood lapped it up. Love, in short, was for mortals and fools, and Tom Riddle was neither.

He returned as Lord Voldemort, to free Wizarding Britain from the clutches of mediocrity, starting with his first true home. But like always, Dumbledore was there, the thorn in his side, the only one who saw through his mask, the only one who remembered who Tom Riddle was, and again he denied him the post he was exceedingly overqualified for.

Lord Voldemort left Dumbledore’s office swelling with resentment, but it did not matter. Dumbledore’s time was running out, and until then, Lord Voldemort had a way to make sure Dumbledore would regret his refusal. He hid the Diadem in the school itself and cursed it, and he watched the curse claim the lives, the minds, and the reputations of the finest aurors and curse breakers. He even watched Dumbledore use the curse to his own benefit, appointing people who had challenged him, so that he could get rid of them.

And then the wretched half-blood asked him for the job. Lord Voldemort deliberated it: Remove the curse, or let it hit him?

_***_

> Sev,
> 
> I miss you. I’m sorry I never wrote until now. I don’t know what to say.

Regulus wrote the first sentences with a shaking, unsteady hand, but it seemed to grow more confident as the letter went on.

> The pen feels weird. Lily showed me how to hold it, it wasn’t very natural at first, but I think I see why muggles use it. It’s nice not having to worry about spilling ink bottles, at least.

With his own hands shaking, Severus wondered: _A review of writing instruments?_

> I remember more now, but it still doesn’t make much sense. How did we meet? When did we get together? Why did you have me? I’m afraid I’m too different now, and you won’t want me back. I understand if you don’t. It’s my fault it happened. In Romania, I know I told myself I would like to marry you one day when this is all over, but I don’t know why we went to Romania.

The handwriting betrayed Regulus’s turmoil, and Severus felt exactly the same. _Marry?_

> Lily and I are getting on alright now. I think I understand what you meant about her - that she wasn’t like everybody else. We watched Muggle films, and I learned about football. She says she’ll tell me what the Beatles are tomorrow, and about some person named David Bowie who she says is probably a Muggle-born wizard. We might go to the London Zoo but the tickets are expensive. She says we have to start watching it.
> 
> I miss magic. And I miss you. I’m sorry. I don’t know how we ended up here but I must have done something stupid.
> 
> Love,
> 
> R.A.B.
> 
> P.S. I had to wait for when I was sure she isn’t looking. If it comes to this, give me up. If you die, I won’t live anyway, and Lily will kill me.

The words leaped from the sheet of paper at Severus, and memories Regulus didn’t have devoured him. _Marry? Marry the pathetic boy he caught weeping after that mess with Lily?_ It struck him how bizarre it was that Lily and Regulus were together now, discussing Muggle rock music and giraffes.

 _He understands, if I don’t want him back? Marry? Give him up?_ Each idea was more unthinkable than the idea that came before. Severus realized: Regulus must have forgotten how far Severus was willing to go to make sure he wouldn’t give Regulus up, even if he wanted to. To do what needed doing, he needed to be absolutely certain that the worst could not happen. With his mind a battlefield from which he could not retreat, he knew he had to fight to the death - but not Regulus’s.

The self-imposed control on his mind resulted in curious effects. When Regulus’s letter broke through the defenses and brought memories flooding back, they were more real than the present moment. He wrote a cryptic message to himself in the book’s margins: _Can’t obliviate the body,_ and decided he is never giving Dumbledore his book back.

He sat down to compose a letter back and found his own pen moving frantically across the page.

> When we first spoke, you accidentally came into our room in the Slytherin Tower. I don’t know what you were looking for. I was there by myself (as he wrote, he asked himself: _Is it really necessary to write that I had been crying over Lily?_ ). Your appearance startled me, and you said, “I’m not Sirius,” something like that. “I’m not Sirius, you don’t need to be scared.” Then you decided to become study partners with me in your 5th year. Look, it doesn’t matter, you and I became study partners and I had realized I liked you, and you said you wanted me. To this day, I cannot fathom why, but you did. 

He wrote and blotted out:

> I thought it was a trick. I thought he was behind it. I nearly killed myself.

He wondered: _Why did I take my shirt off, then? Was I afraid he would force me if I didn’t do it? Did I do it because it was the only way to keep him around? Was I so eager to do it that I was willing to risk rejection, knowing it would come, knowing it would kill me?_ He shook his head and his shoulder twitched. _Focus._ He wrote instead:

> You were worried about me because I’d been missing for a couple of days. You found me at the hospital wing, and I told you to get away from me, and you stayed. I don’t know if you remember _(do we really need to go through all of this again?)_ but I have nasty scars. I thought you would leave, or you would hurt me somehow, but you never did.
> 
> Stop being an idiot, Reg, I can’t give you up. If I die, you should know I only lived as long as I did because I had you.

He sent the letter, with the parts he had crossed out, and cussed at himself throughout, as he always did, he had noticed recently, when he was overcome.

 _One Horcrux to go,_ he reminded himself. _If only we find it before Lily’s baby is enrolled._

***

When Regulus read the letter, the words “you told me you were not Sirius” attacked him. It was exactly what he had said to Lily, exactly what he had been saying his entire life. _How long have I been saying this?_

He remembered: _I asked Severus that, before._ But now, without his memories, he was less certain than he’d ever been. _I’m not him, but who, then?_

What made it even worse was the knowledge that Sirius himself was barely a real person. Everything he did, he did to provoke his mother or to conform to Potter. Regulus found himself doing something neither Sirius nor their mother would have ever thought to do.

“Lily, I’m sorry I called you a Mudblood.”

“Which time?”

When he looked at her with stooped shoulders and shifted uncomfortably, she sighed. She thought this was a bit unnecessary to apologize, for someone who was wearing Muggle clothes, who hadn’t used magic in months.

“It’s alright, I suppose.”

Regulus lingered for a moment more, and returned to his bedroom, where the letter lay on the bed. He was not Sirius, and he was not his mother’s golden child any more. He was barely a wizard, much less a Black. He did not know who he was, but he knew whom he was not: The boy who collected newspaper articles about the Dark Lord and played Quidditch, whose grand ambition was to be a Death Eater and subjugate people like Lily, was gone. He looked at the arm Dumbledore had given him.

_If I had never met Severus, I would have been fine. And nothing more._

“The only reason I am someone worth being is you,” he told Severus in his head, and he felt that he was a Black in name alone, and even Regulus was beginning to fade.

He remembered that the Dark Lord had promised him: “You will be the pride of the Black Family tree,” and he wondered if he had been disowned yet.

***

Albus sat alone in his office. His body ached all over, and he felt his age more acutely than he had in a long time. His time was running out, he had long known it, and the stakes were higher than ever. Three Horcruxes were concealed in various secret hiding places in the room, the fourth was in his pocket, and the fifth still eluded him.

Preferring not to be seen supported by Severus, he insisted on walking from the gate to his office alone, on climbing the many stairs alone, despite the effect of the curse that nearly claimed his life. He closed his eyes, and he pulled his wand and the ring from his pocket. _Two out of three. So close._ The cloak, he knew, was with Lily, its rightful owner, deep in the bowels of Muggle London, to aid in the event of an unthinkable emergency.

As he touched his wand, he felt the energy he felt when he was eleven, when his first wand chose him. He had lived long enough to wield three wands, and he knew the current one would be his last - as it had been for everyone who wielded it. He thought of Gellert. _What would you have said, if you had known? I found the stone, Gellert._ It was only thanks to Severus, Albus realized, that he would not lose the wand to death. He would lose his magic, instead, and mastery of the wand would become meaningless. He did not know how long he had. Such was the power of words.

Albus had to be economical with his powers now, but he had a lot of thinking to do, and he needed the help of his Pensieve. He put memories of the past day in the silver bowl and felt himself growing distant from them, as though they had occurred long ago, or to someone else. Even his pain subsided, and he was calm and focused. _Time to see how big a fool I am,_ he told himself, and dived in. He realized he did not see the dead bird the first time - he entered the house thinking only of the stone, and when he saw it, his field of vision narrowed to a pinhole. _So that’s how he knew it was cursed. Clever._ He saw himself summoning the ring, and wearing it without touching it, and he saw how it looked from the side as he battled with the demons that told him he would never win. He saw Severus draw his own wand out, to remove the ring, using all the force and endurance in his young body to do so, and he saw him fling it magically, as far as he could. He saw himself collapse, and he saw Severus fussing over him as Pomfrey must have fussed over him dozens of times before. He saw himself, in his weakness, blurt out the fears and regrets he never shared, not even with his own brother. Lastly, he saw Severus informing him that he had appointed himself the Defense teacher, and lifted his head. _He must have figured out the curse. No remotely qualified teacher has applied for the job in years. What is he thinking?_

It was his longtime habit to list his problems in the hope that a solution for one would present itself as he thought of the other. _I am losing my magic by the hour. We have four Horcruxes, of which one won’t open. The fifth one remains unaccounted for. Severus has decided to subject himself to the curse. He knows I will lose my power - and he is in Voldemort’s employ._

He knew Severus would never betray Regulus and Lily, since he himself had made sure he wouldn’t be able to - but if Voldemort found out, it would present an unacceptable risk. _I must keep him close, and happy. He has no reason not to betray me._ Albus did not succumb to the futile urge to blame himself - he did not have time to waste, and Severus was certainly more qualified than any applicant who had presented themselves in recent memory. _Possibly even more qualified than I,_ Albus noted bitterly. He wrote down: “way to persuade Tom to lift the curse” on a roll of parchment and underlined it thrice, feeling like a schoolboy lost for inspiration for an essay, a sensation that was completely foreign to him. He wondered: _Is Severus trying to kill himself again?_

He had enough basilisk venom to destroy one Horcrux, and he had a werewolf who owed him a favor, whom he could use to destroy another. He wondered if Lupin had heard about Sirius, and how he felt about it. _It doesn’t change a thing. It would have been either Sirius or Remus - after all, he did bite him._ Without further ado, he dripped the hard-won Basilisk blood into the cup, and watched as the cup melted like plastic in fire. A blood-curdling scream issued from it, and black smoke, and what remained of it could no longer be referred to as a cup in any true sense. He thought about the counterfeit he had made and sent the Smiths. The only thing left to do was to remove the stone from the ring and check if the ring could now be destroyed. He removed the stone without difficulty, and his eyes lingered on it for the briefest moment before he moved on to the ring itself. He smashed it without using magic, and it succumbed to the mundane force of his stomping foot, the final step in a journey he embarked on 80-odd years ago. _Three more to go._

He knew he could not cast a Patronus, and he opted instead to sending Remus the message via Fawkes:

> At the next full moon, come here. I have a very important assignment for you.

He was almost certain: A werewolf bite could destroy Horcruxes. There was no telling, however, what it would do to Remus. He wondered if Remus would start appearing in his recurring dream, and remembered that he was aching, and old, and very tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm running out of plot, I keep finding more and more loose ends, and I don't know what to do with them!  
> Hope you've enjoyed reading, and thank you for sticking with this story for this long, Sev's stupid insecurity, and Reg's identity crisis!


	46. Chapter 46

Severus knew: The Defense job was already his, if he could only persuade Lord Voldemort to let him apply. Severus felt the Dark Mark calling him and he was not prepared, he did not have a well-rehearsed lie nor a plan. Regardless, he heeded the call, hoping that swiftness of appearance (and subservience, as he noted bitterly) will again make up for the lack of something of value to offer. _How many more times will I kiss the ring of the man who had erased me from Regulus’s mind?_ He wondered. He told himself he was kneeling for love, not for his master. “There is nothing humiliating in anything done for another”, Dumbledore had said, but accepting Dumbledore as a mentor was humiliating in itself… _And look at what your mentor had done to himself._ When Severus found himself at the Malfoy Manor, his mind went quiet. Closing his mind had become involuntary, a process he was barely aware of, a predictable outcome of the training he had undergone. The book contained warnings against extensive reliance on this branch of magic, and Severus knew he was risking breaking his mind. He comforted himself by remembering it was broken in the first place.

His lips parted from the Dark Lord’s robe, but he remained on the floor.

“Rise,” the Dark Lord ordered him, and Severus stood up, as the Dark Lord towered over him in his high chair.

“You have asked me to send you to Hogwarts,” he said. “I am surprised. Does the job I have given you not please you?”

“My Lord, I am grateful. My only complaint is that I have not produced anything of value – I believe I can be of greater use to you.”

His mind was empty. This was neither true nor false; the truthfulness of the statement was conditioned on his master’s reaction.

“You question my decision?”

“You have been most kind to me – kinder than I could believe.”

Instinct told Severus that grudge would be deadly if allowed to manifest. _Appeal to his benevolence, not his cunning_ – “but I am ashamed that I had not performed what had been assigned to me. I am not so powerful, My Lord, I admit it – I believe I can serve you at Hogwarts and outshine the traitor Black.”

“You believe Dumbledore will hire you, a wizard barely of age whom he despises?”

“My Lord, I pray only you will let me try. If I fail, I will return to the Department without hesitation until you assign me something else.”

“What makes you think he will have you?”

Severus was certain Dumbledore would, but he could not know why. His mind detached the knowledge that Severus had saved Dumbledore from the ring’s curse, the knowledge that he had been covertly working for Dumbledore for months, and the certainty that Dumbledore would hire him.

“My Lord, the fool might feel some remorse, or be harboring a fantasy of saving me from the Dark. Thanks to your generosity, I have learned and evolved. To attempt it would not be so ill-advised, and it would be a waste to send another and to distract them from more valuable tasks when you can use me and only lose what I regret is an unremarkable ministry worker.”

Back home with an uneaten meal he vanished in frustration, Severus felt the bile rise up at having had to say these things, but in front of his master, he had access only to his humility and his ambition.

“The post is rumored to be cursed.”

“My Lord, I long accepted that I might die in your service.”

When he was alone, Severus answered back, in his mind: You tortured him and obliviated him. You branded us and used us, and now you feign concern for my well-being.

“I have no use for a spy on the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Dumbledore might know where the traitor had gone. My master, let me try.”

“You may try, Snape.”

Severus removed his hair from his face and thanked his master with glittering eyes in a tactical display of sincere emotion. _The well-trained Occlumens will learn to use sincerity to deceive,_ the book had said. It sounded paradoxical, but Severus understood what it meant straight away. He had taken to using the photo Lily had sent him as a bookmark. On the back of the photo he wrote: “I never deceived myself with you, and I never will. All we ever fought for was the truth.”

Severus knew the job was his, but he informed his master that he got an interview and he was summoned shortly thereafter.

***

The half-blood had come closer to attaining what Lord Voldemort himself could not: Fooling Albus Dumbledore. Lord Voldemort calculated his next step and weighed his options. Allow the curse to hit, and the social climber who had proved so useful would be dead, injured, or disgraced. This conferred no advantage to Lord Voldemort, who was, after all, loath to lose such a dutiful, eager follower, only out of spite against Dumbledore, who was sure to expire soon. He consulted with Lucius, and pried information out of his newly minted spy, who knew Severus intimately from their school days.

“He is clever, and hard-working. It would be a shame to sacrifice such an asset unless absolutely necessary,” Lucius said. Through Pettigrew’s eyes, Lord Voldemort saw Severus in various states of helpless defeat. As he had always known, the half-blood of Slytherin was an abject wretch of the first order, who would be very useful indeed at Hogwarts, and if he could never outwit Pettigrew and his friends, he stood nary a chance of outwitting him. The only concern was that he might switch sides, if Dumbledore’s remorse should prove too sincere – but even without a curse, nothing could stop Lord Voldemort from killing Severus himself.

He summoned his scrawny, scorned servant, and placed him under the Confundus charm: “You will go to the seventh-floor corridor, you will ask for the room of hidden things, and you will find the Diadem of Ravenclaw, and you will bring it to me. You will not remember that I told you to do it, or that you did it.”

The last time such magic had been used on Severus, it sent him spinning into paranoia and made him doubt his own sanity and lie to Regulus, all these months ago, until Lily showed up. But he had mastered his mind now, and knew exactly what had been done to him then, and what happened now.

Lord Voldemort himself had just told him where the last Horcrux was, and Severus could only hope that this meant he would not have to teach a single lesson. He remembered everything, and he knew it was real. To his delight, he realized that the Dark Lord had just done to him what he himself had done to Narcissa. _A broken mind has many advantages,_ he realized: Confunding him had become nearly impossible since he’d learned to distrust even himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always!


	47. Chapter 47

> I have the last one. Come. And bring a tape recorder.

That was all Severus’s letter said. They had been apart for months. The werewolf had destroyed the diary, the venom had destroyed the cup, and the ring had claimed Dumbledore’s power, but he had used the last of it to destroy the Horcrux within it. The locket remained steadfastly impossible to open, but Severus had an idea for how they would destroy the diadem.

It was as Dark as Dark came. It was sick. It was twisted. It was perfect.

He held the diadem with both hands, and the beautiful, ornate artefact that had been lost to the world for centuries glimmered blue and bronze on the cherry wood table. 

Regulus and Lily’s appearance would depend on when they would check the mail, but Severus could feel it - he had done it. Three Horcruxes had been destroyed, and the Dark Lord Voldemort was none the wiser. _If I die before I do what I promised I would do, I deserve to see them one more time before that happens,_ he told himself. Besides, Regulus’s help was essential. Only family members could claim victims of the Dementor’s kiss. For better or for worse, Black blood ran through his veins, and it was time to put it to good use, at last. 

Severus was not sure Death Eaters weren’t watching the flat, and he expected Regulus and Lily to appear under the cloak. _Useful thing, that, even if it had been used mostly to persecute me with impunity._

Finally, there was a soft knock on the door and Severus opened the door, cast _Umbra Revelo_ and saw their magical shadows reflected on the wall. He let them in, and they threw off the cloak, Lily more pregnant, and Regulus in denim, but unmistakable. He did not know what to expect of the reunion - the last time they’d been reunited following an absence, Regulus jumped on him as soon as Lucius shut the door behind them. But that was before - before they’d been Marked, before Lily came back, before Kreacher was poisoned nearly to death, before everything.

It had only been a few months, but they were different people. They looked at one another and smiled.

“You actually did it.”

“Not quite,” Severus corrected Regulus. “The locket still won’t open. And there’s still this one to destroy,” he gestured at the table. “But I have a plan.”

Regulus’s eyes glittered, and Lily’s hand was on her chest.

“Yes, I did it,” he finally allowed himself to say. “Reg, it’s been…”

“It’ll be over soon.”

“You make a very handsome muggle,” Severus teased him.

“I know. We support Arsenal now.”

It was like hearing a foreigner speaking plain English - Severus only realized what had been said after Regulus had said it, and his grin widened.

Lily coughed, whether to remind them that she was in the room too or that they still had work to do was anybody’s guess.

Severus started to explain his plan: “Right - so I’ve been thinking…”

Lily turned pale, but Regulus was resolute. Despite her clear distaste, however, she agreed that it needed doing, that it was for the best, and they set the plan in motion.

***

Hours later, Regulus returned with the limp form of Sirius Black. The body was sickly thin, with overgrown hair and nails, and Lily looked away. Morbid curiosity drew Severus toward the soulless body that was still alive. He had never seen one up close - only in books. The eyes were vacant and they moved as the body’s head moved, like doll eyes. When Severus cast Lumos, they followed the light. When he checked the body’s reflexes with a small rubber hammer he conjured, the body moved. But Severus could never dream that he would get close enough to Sirius Black to test his reflexes and make it out unscathed. This was not Sirius.

They tied the inert body to a chair, and Severus dripped Veritaserum on the body’s tongue, still half-expecting Sirius to bite his finger off, and summoned the diadem. It hovered above the body’s head, its elegance contrasting perfectly with the savagery of what sat below it.

“Ready?” He asked the others, and they nodded. He allowed the diadem to fall on Sirius’s head.

Nothing happened for a while. Severus even found the time to quip that it’s too bad Sirius didn’t have access to the mythical diadem while he still inhabited that body (“he needed all the help he could get being clever”), and that he didn’t have much of a soul to begin with (“the Dementor who kissed him must have drawn the short straw”), and Lily found the time to glance sideways at him. The body looked strikingly ridiculous with the diadem on its head, and it was hard to imagine that this was once the menace that had reduced Severus into a nervous wreck. When it looked like life was stirring within the body, Regulus and Lily hid under the cloak.

“If it isn’t the half-blood of Slytherin,” Voldemort said in Sirius’s voice. Severus did not bow, did not kneel, and did not flinch.

He merely confirmed: “It is I.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Voldemort-Sirius asked.

“How many horcruxes did you make?”

“I made five, and you will never find them,” Voldemort-Sirius answered, with arrogance befitting the real Sirius.

Severus counted them: Diary, Ring, Locket, Cup, Diadem.

“You are one,” Severus informed him flatly. “I’ve given you a body,” he added.

“Yet you do not bow before that body?” The restrained Dark Lord asked. “Is the thought distasteful, to the nameless, penniless progeny of filth, to kneel before the form of the one who tried to make dog food out of you?”

Severus’s expression turned to stone. It was never Sirius’s form that bothered him.

“But I am sure you had no problem kneeling when you prostituted yourself to his brother for a chance to be included among my servants. It was most amusing to see that you would serve for a chance to serve, Snape.”

Lily heard Regulus growing angry under the cloak, and she braced herself for having to hold him back.

“I expect complete submission, Severus, whatever form I may take. I promised you protection, power, and love, and I’m your only chance. Release me.”

“I don’t think so, Tom,” Severus answered.

“You are nothing,” Voldemort-Sirius hissed. “Look at yourself, look at your life. Did I ever tell you how alike we are? I had a Muggle father, like you - you must know that, if you know the foul name of my birth. But I killed mine, Snape, and I abandoned the name he had given me. I most certainly did not permit the lowliest of the Muggles to make a punching bag out of me. I was Sorted into the house of the Purebloods, and I dominated them. You withstood and endured scorn and ridicule from them for associating with the treacherous Muggle-born girl you were so pathetically devoted to, and she left you. Even Dumbledore did not care if you lived or died. Dumbledore, who fought tooth and nail for the half-giant. You let Potter put you on display. They remember that, you know. This is what you are. Yet you defy me?”

“I do,” Severus said simply. _You think you see me, but you don’t._

“I might consider forgiving you, Snape, if you obey and take your punishment. Consider your options. You are possibly the most wretched, most despicable, most loveless follower I ever had. It would have taken someone particularly loathsome to be abandoned again and again. Your family, the Death Eaters, have been good to you, do you not think so? Before you came to me, you were attacked at every turn. Your capacity for devotion is considerable. Give it to me, and I might allow you to serve me again.”

“I have had quite enough of family like this,” Severus said. He did not know why the conversation kept going.

“You were never loved, and you never will be, without me, Severus,” Voldemort-Sirius said. “I had erased you from Black’s mind but he still ran off with the Muggle-born girl you loved so much - even I thought he loved you, but he didn’t. Or perhaps he saw you for what you were and he stopped loving you?”

Severus remained scornful, but there was no holding Regulus back. “He never did,” he said, and threw the cloak off. “I never ran off and I never stopped loving him, and I never will.”

“Ah - but we’re brothers now, Black! I am as pure of blood as you, in this body!”

“My brother should have been proof enough that this was all rubbish, Voldemort.”

“I’ve obliviated you once, and I can do it again, child of incest,” Voldemort-Sirius threatened. “You will be what I want you to be, like your cousin. And how alike you are, after all - you think you broke the family mould but you are just like her. She also looked quite irresistible on the floor, when she begged me to forgive her for not knowing where you were, casting Cruciatus on herself and sobbing at my feet as I threatened that I might never forget her insubordination. How she thanked me, when I agreed to let her earn her forgiveness. If I won’t kill you, she will, unless you can convince me to order her not to. And you will not even know why you will have been executed. Tell me, Regulus, is the elf worth it? Cousin Bella chose well, brother! She loves me above all else. You are just like her. Mother looks just like her.”

From his brother’s mouth, these words were especially nauseating, but Voldemort-Sirius only sniggered. “Don’t be so appalled, Black, it’s how you were made.”

Regulus could not control himself anymore. He walked over to Voldemort-Sirius, and punched him.

“This,” he said breathlessly, “is for trying to kill him.”

He hit him again.

“This is for attacking him in his sleep, you lowlife, you are not a man.”

“It’s not Sirius, Reg,” Severus whispered, but Regulus ignored him.

“This is for Kreacher,” he continued, and the chair was now toppled over, and his boot was on Voldemort-Sirius’s ribs.

“You should have killed me. What you tried to do to me was worse than murder, Voldemort. You should know - the bit of you that’s here, anyway, you aberration - that I will personally make sure Bellatrix knows you’re part Muggle.”

His face was like stone as he uttered the killing curse, and green light hit Sirius’s body right on the chest.

Moments passed, and no one spoke or moved.

“You moron,” Severus screamed when he finally realized what Regulus had done. “You killed him! We needed him to say ‘open’ in Parseltongue! And how can we be sure there’s nothing left in the Horcrux?”

Regulus looked at him defensively.

“I told you I would kill him,” he said.

Touched as Severus was that Regulus remembered that, it solved nothing.

“It’s not Sirius -”

“It’s close enough,” Regulus huffed, and Sirius’s eyes were unfocused, and he looked more peaceful than he ever did in life. Lily emerged from under the cloak and quietly walked over to him and closed his eyes. In a stifled voice, she said: “I hope they’re together now.”

Severus knew exactly who “they” were. “I hope they’re not,” he answered.

He had to admit to himself that even if the soul had left the body long ago, it was good to know that he had finally died.

He gingerly removed the diadem from Sirius’s head. It felt lighter, and Severus took that to mean there was no more soul inside of it. Allowing a soul without a body to possess a body without a soul had made it vulnerable to mortal death again. It was a shame to destroy the diadem, but they had to make sure it was no longer a Horcrux. Severus pointed his wand at it, thought _Evanesco,_ and the diadem vanished.

“One more,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is adequate payoff for the "Lupin bites Sirius and Sirius gets the kiss plot line"! I have officially ran out of ways to abuse him, so that's the end of that!  
> Now it's up to y'all to imagine how they all spent their first day together after being apart for so long, but feel free to tell the rest of the class <3 Thank you for reading! There's not much longer to go, so thanks for sticking with this for so long!


	48. Chapter 48

“Mr. Snape, how lovely to see you again! Traveling on your own, I see?”

Severus dug into his pocket and slammed a random assortment of coins onto the counter. “Romania,” he said.

The proprietor of the portkey station cleared his throat and said: “I regret that it will be a bit more than that, unless you wish to take advantage of one of our many –“

Severus pulled his left sleeve up and flashed the Dark Mark at him.

The proprietor swallowed. “I see,” he said, trying to sound dignified, as though he had an arrangement with the Death Eaters, when in reality he was merely being intimidated into obedience. “Right away, Mr. Snape.”

Severus heard him rummaging through the back room. He returned holding a strange woodwind instrument, and Severus grabbed it without preamble, to find himself heaving in the Romanian countryside. He did not look around him or wait for the unpleasant sensation to pass: Odds were high that his detour would be a waste of time and he did not wish to prolong it. He Disapparated to the heart of Wizarding Bucharest, and hoped that he had garnered enough goodwill with Despina to ask for a very big favor, and that she could help him at all. He cursed Reg’s temper throughout. Had Regulus not hastened to kill Voldemort-Sirius, Severus would have had time to ask him to say “open” in Parseltongue and they could have destroyed the last Horcrux. He could not blame Regulus: It was here in Romania where Regulus had been summoned, alone, where he believed would be the last day of his life. Regulus had returned from this very city, these very streets, and walked toward death. Still, it astonished Severus that Regulus had the presence of mind to lie to him then, and pretend nothing was wrong, but that he couldn’t stand another second of Voldemort being alive in his brother’s soulless body.

The diary, the cup, the ring, and the diadem had all been destroyed, and only the locket remained, the first Horcrux they found, the reason Severus and Regulus joined Lily in the monumental task of defeating the Dark Lord. Severus could never imagine that it would be Parseltongue that would prove so hard to get around, harder than the Gringotts security. Again, he cursed the moment Dumbledore had put the cursed ring on, and exchanged his magic, and his rudimentary Parseltongue with it, to destroy the Horcrux within. He pushed through the crowd until he found the entrance to Despina’s office, where he now knew Regulus thought he would like to marry Severus one day, and where his original arm first started burning. His resolve strengthened, and he knocked on the door.

Despina greeted him immediately, in English, and Severus realized she must have remembered him. “You used it up so fast?” She asked.

“I did not know how much I would need.”

“And you need more, for your mysterious noble ends.”

“If I am lucky, I will need more. But at the moment I need a Parselmouth.”

“Excuse me, I don’t know what that means.”

“Someone who can speak to snakes. I know it’s unlikely.”

“Where is the smug, self-important gentleman who was with you last time?”

Severus was glad to discover that the various charms placed on him to prevent him from telling anyone were still effective. “I can’t tell you.”

“And you expect me to help you.”

“Can you?”

She studied him. He hoped she would just say yes or no. Her eyes lingered on his, and he shifted uncomfortably. Her answer seemed to defy relevance:

“You’re a spell crafter.”

He said nothing, but she seemed to glean the truth from the fact that he did not deny it. “That is very rare,” she continued.

Severus figured that it must be, from Regulus’s astonishment, and from the Department of Mysteries’ pathetic performance. He figured Dumbledore had either invented or perfected his organ-growing spell and his memory extraction spells. He believed that the magic the Dark Lord used to brand his Death Eaters was unique as well. But Severus never heard of a wizard other than himself who had invented spells from scratch, so young, and the thought of what it might mean scared him.

“I studied at Durmstrang,” Despina told him. “Spell-crafting is considered a Dark art. They don’t teach you the Dark Arts, is that correct?”

Severus nodded. He had forgotten why he had come here ­­­­­– he felt he was on the verge of discovering something important. “We only learn ‘defense,’ but it’s rubbish. I never understood the distinction, they didn’t bother to teach us that.”

“Severus, no one has been able to craft something like what you taught me. When you left, I was certain that this spell was a hoax, that you were trying to buy yourself some time. But it worked. I became, how do you say, fixated. I searched for a spell like that, or even similar to that, for weeks. I couldn’t believe I had paid you so little for this gift. I deal in a highly regulated substance, my clients nu s-au născut ieri - excuse me - they weren’t born yesterday, they’re very knowledgeable. Nobody has ever heard of anything like that. How did you do it?

“I thought I was being followed by a wizard who could turn invisible at will, but as it turned out, it was only an idiot with an invisibility cloak.” Remembering Regulus’s fratricidal impulse that brought him to this point, he added unnecessarily: “He’s dead now.”

“That’s not an answer. After my dad fell victim to the permanent blinding curse, we searched for a cure for years. We longed for it as badly as you must have longed for respite from the wizard with the invisibility cloak, and no one could help us.”

“I don’t know how I did it,” he admitted. The rest of it came in a torrent, as if he was confessing a crime. “I didn’t even know it was unusual. I crafted seven spells already, and I don’t know how.”

Awestruck, she mouthed: “Șapte?” When her voice returned to her, she asked him why he wouldn’t invent something for whatever his purpose was. The answer was simple – it never occurred to him.

“Once I had failed to find another wizard like you, I began to wonder where spells come from, and I think I have a theory, if you’ll indulge me. I found out that in every country, magical innovation slowed down when they established magic schools, and almost stopped altogether worldwide when they enacted the Statute. Severus, I hope you won’t take offense at my question, but – did you grow up around Muggles?”

He suddenly remembered he had a locket to open. “Can you talk to snakes, or not?” He asked, but she did not mistake his defensiveness for true impatience.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Severus wondered what the Muggle could possibly have to do with it. Then he remembered how Regulus, the purest pureblood, reacted to the discovery of Severus’s gift. Regulus had never met a spell crafter, the Department in charge of studying the quintessence of magic was staffed with other purebloods, but like him, the Dark Lord was a half-blood, as he’d recently found out to his dismay, and so was Dumbledore.

“My mother is a witch,” he explained, just as he used to explain to the Slytherins who wondered how he had clawed his way into their house.

“But not your father.”

His lip twitched. “No.”

“Severus, you are very special.”

“That is a very nice way of saying ‘half-blood freak’, I’ll give you this.”

“You are extraordinary.”

Her words stung. He resisted them. Since he’d been born, he’d been different, a wizard in Cokeworth and a half-blood in Slytherin, a long-haired sissy and friends with a girl, a Muggle-born girl at that, a loner who had to fall in love with a man, and a Black at that… and it all came together. He had to accept what he had always resisted – he was special, he was extraordinary. But there was one suspicion he had to clear before he could do that.

“The last time I was here, Regulus - the smug, self-important gentleman, insisted you were flirting with me. I told him he was being an idiot, of course.”

“I was.”

“Are you still?”

“I don’t enjoy making a fool of myself. I was flirting with you then, but that’s neither here nor there. Everything I said today is true.”

He had to think about it logically. All his life he had been different, and he was hated for it, so he naturally assumed that he deserved it, that if he changed himself enough, clawed his way into the right circle, he could mould himself into someone acceptable, worthy of protection, worthy of love. _Voldemort knew exactly what to say to you. But if you deserved the hate,_ Severus told himself, _you deserved the love. If I deserved to lose Lily, I deserved to get her back._

The possibility that he might be the true equal of wizards like Dumbledore and Voldemort made his head spin. _Dumbledore forced you to cover up your own attempted murder, and Voldemort_ (Severus now finally realized) _deliberately tried to keep you down at a department that produced nothing, as he knows full well._ He decided he would never be them. His own quest for glory would never come at the expense of others’ lives or their potential.

“Our family owes you a debt of gratitude, Severus. You can have all the venom you would ever need. But no, we do not possess the gift of speech with Snakes, only blindness, as you so cleverly figured out.”

Her words brought him back to the present, and to his mission. “If I can’t find a Parselmouth, I have no need for the venom – but I’ll accept it, in the hope that I’ll find one.”

She nodded, went to her back room, and returned with a vial.

“I wish there was more I could do,” she said.

“Thank you, Despina,” he said, and realized he meant it as more than a formality. “You should come to England sometime, if it’s ever safe to do so.”

“I am sure that you can craft something that would make the venom useful,” she reiterated. He nodded. Despina felt like she finally had an idea what Severus’s and the arrogant Anglo’s noble ends were, and she watched him leave, the end of his robe swishing behind him.

***

Severus returned from Romania with a vial of venom he hoped he would be able to use, and with his head buzzing with ideas. He was elated that the spell he had devised to evade invisible tormentors ended up helping someone in need. He realized he never truly appreciated his gift, or its potential, and he believed Despina was right – it was the Muggle heritage he had tried so hard to shed that made him different, in a way the purebloods could never dream of.

He remembered how Lily used to fly, and how, not long after they arrived at Hogwarts, she convinced herself that he was imagining things, that she never actually did it. It was too hard for her to be different. But they were, and if being raised among Muggles made them this way, it was about time they both accepted it. Both he and Lily wanted to fit in, and of course she was much more successful at it – but they could do better than fit in, they could stand out. They alone were not constrained by what they had been told from birth was impossible, only they had been taught at Muggle school about the forces magic could defy, and Severus finally understood the true reason why the purebloods wanted to keep the half-bloods and Muggle-borns down. _It was never about their safety or their culture._ He wondered what Arsenal’s newest supporter would have to say about that.

“I need to craft a spell to open the locket,” he announced to them.

Regulus, who had already witnessed the creation of two spells, quickly suggested: “what about something like Cat’s Grace, but for snakes?”

“What the hell is Cat’s Grace?” Lily asked, and Regulus promised he would explain later.

It seemed as good a place as any to begin. Severus wrote down a couple of potential incantations, and focused his considerable willpower on becoming snake-like, acquiring the qualities of the order of serpents, that so distinguished Voldemort.

The air around him became cold, as though it was full of Dementors, or as though a ghost had passed through him. “Someone turn the heat up, for Salazar’s sake,” he cried, but Regulus and Lily only stared at him, agonizingly futile, and Lily muttered something incomprehensible. Much too slowly, he felt himself growing warm again. “Why didn’t you tell it to open?” Regulus asked.

“Ex-excuse me?” Severus asked, his teeth clattering.

“You spoke it – why didn’t you open it?”

“I had-hadn’t realized I was speaking it,” Severus said, his lips blue. He remembered – snakes cannot produce body heat. Magic had a price, it was unpredictable. _That’s why spell crafting is a Dark art_.

They had to try again. “I will try to open it this time. Reg, you keep me warm. Lily, you destroy it.” The others nodded imperceptibly.

He tried the spell again, and again, the heat left his body. Regulus threw heating charm after heating charm at him, but they did not work, and he felt he was about to die from the cold, he knew it, he knew he had to find a source of heat… then Regulus wrapped him in all the blankets he could find, crawled under them, and embraced him, and he felt Regulus’s body heat transferring to him, and his own mind returning…

“Open,” he said, still shivering, and only then did Regulus cast _finite incantatem._ As Regulus rubbed his body to improve his circulation, they watched Lily approach the Horcrux, careful and apprehensive.

“You will never be accepted,” the locket said to her. “You’ll always be a freak. A freak among the freaks, Lily Evans Potter. Your sister is right about you. That’s why you’re the way that you are, mudblood. You know the Muggles will always fear you, even your own sister, and wizards will never accept you. So you abandoned Severus as soon as things got hard – and you told yourself you had a chance, that even Slughorn loves you, that you were special enough to overcome your parentage, that you could conform and prove yourself, and be a real witch. And you liked feeling special, because it’s either special, or a freak. It used to be Severus who made you feel this way, and then it was Potter – shiny, popular Potter. Join me, Lily, abandon them – and you’ll be the most special, a mudblood Death Eater. Join me, abandon your friends, as you always do, as you always will. It will be a better life for your child – he is already an orphan. Join me, Lily, and I will accept you, and your child will never know what a freak his mother is.”

Lily’s hand shook, her face was white – she seemed like she would fail.

“He’s lying, Lily,” Severus hollered out, still shivering under the blankets, still in Regulus’s arms. “He lied to me, he lied to Regulus, he’s lying to you.”

“Your baby will have a family,” Regulus urged her.

She never wanted to kill anyone. She never wanted anyone to die. She never wanted anything to do with Dark Magic. She thought about her baby. She knew it was a boy. And she knew the boy deserved a mother who was brave, who would do the right thing. He deserved to live in a world without Voldemort, be a wizard among wizards, and the two friends behind her urged her to do it. She regretted leaving Severus, she knew the Horcrux was right about that – but that was it. She dripped the venom onto the locket, and it hissed and shrieked and disappeared in smoke.

To their joint horror, they realized they were not finished: They now had to confront Voldemort himself. “I always assumed it would be Dumbledore, in the end,” Lily whispered.

“I’m sure he did too,” Severus said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrase "long-haired sissy who is friends with a girl" is stolen from this excellent essay: http://www.redhen-publications.com/padfoot-etc.html  
> The theory on spell-crafting is adapted from the theory presented in the Snape-centric fic "A Difference in the Family" by Rannaro
> 
> To the reader Villain_San, thank you for your amazing comment, it made my so happy, I always dreamed of writing something good enough that somebody would want to read it twice!


	49. Chapter 49

An elf’s emaciated, small hand, closed on a wizard’s finger like a baby’s. They were at the St. Mungo Department for Injured Elves, the saddest place Regulus had ever been to in his life.

“Mistress gave me clothes,” the elf wept. “Kreacher has been a bad elf, and everybody thinks Mistress is crazy, because Kreacher is not telling the truth, and he’s too sad to work – and Kreacher told Mistress that the half-blood and the Muggle-born girl are good friends who saved Regulus and Mistress told Kreacher to punish himself, and she gave him clothes. But master Regulus has come for Kreacher.”

Regulus briefly wondered what state of disrepair the house must have fallen into without the elf.

“You are not a bad elf,” he said, and his eyes lingered on the signs of self-inflicted punishment on Kreacher’s body. “I am sorry I didn’t come for you before. It’s all my fault – you never should have gotten hurt, I’m sorry. But I have been in hiding, and we couldn’t use magic, and we were afraid bad people would follow you, but it’s okay now. Everything is okay.”

He stroked the elf’s forehead.

“Tell Kreacher. Please.”

“Well, you remember I was very sick – and Dumbledore helped me, he helped me get my memories back, and he removed my arm, so that Voldemort couldn’t use it to find me or summon me. Then I had to go into hiding among the Muggles, but Lily helped me, and we waited for Severus to tell us when it was safe to return. And I missed you very much. Then, Severus wrote to us and told us to come. We had to fight Voldemort for what he did to you. For what he did to me.”

***

“I think I know how to lure him,” Severus said. “I’ll tell him I know where you are.”

“But you can’t give him up!” Lily protested. “I mean physically, you can’t do it!”

She was right. Briefly, they were stumped.

“What about my arm, though? The real one, with the Mark. Does Dumbledore still have it?”

“Brilliant!” Severus proclaimed.

But then, they would still have to duel him, when he arrived, and they were certain they were no match to him. “Can’t we just escape?” Regulus wondered. “We’ll go to another country until someone else kills him. He is mortal now.”

Lily thought about the Prewetts, about the other members of the Order, even about her husband. “No,” she said. “We can get Albus to call on the Order to help us, but we have to end it.”

“He will search for us all over the world, Reg. Lily’s right”.

Three nearly full glasses of firewhiskey stood beside them on the floor.

“I’m scared,” Regulus admitted. The full knowledge of the cruelty Voldemort had unleashed on him had nearly incapacitated him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure he will merely kill you if he gets near you again,” Lily said, with her famous tact.

“But what about your baby?”

“He deserves a chance at a normal life, doesn’t he?”

A normal life… A normal life had never been on the table for the witch and wizard from Cokeworth or for the Last of the Blacks.

“Sev?” Regulus suddenly asked.

“Yeah?”

“If we make it out of this, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Severus answered quietly, but with certainty. He had trained himself in controlling his emotions, and so this was a moment with more gravitas than glee. But he suspected that James’s proposal to Lily was a much more light-hearted affair, and it didn’t help their marriage. As he thought about it, his mind felt less broken. It had been so long since he spoke the truth without reserve.

“Congratulations,” Lily said, with a note of irony. “May your marriage outlast mine.”

“Maybe if we could trap him somewhere –“ Severus suggested.

“Like what sort of place?”

“Somewhere where it would be impossible to Disapparate from, where the Death Eaters won’t know how to get him out.”

It came to all of them at the same time: “The Shrieking Shack!”

***

“Then what did master Regulus do?”

 _I am not your master anymore,_ Regulus thought. Other injured elves began to listen, their saucer-like eyes glowing in the dark. It was evident that they were all starved for a wizard’s affection.

“Excuse me, I have to do something,” Regulus said, and Kreacher released his finger. Regulus gave an elf a glass of water, and covered another one with a blanket. He wondered if he knew their families. He wondered about the Malfoys’ elf.

After several minutes of this, he returned to Kreacher.

***

Severus burst into Dumbledore’s office. “We destroyed the last one,” he said. Dumbledore got up, his bones creaking. Severus did not know how to react as Dumbledore pulled him into an embrace. Dumbledore’s life had not been wasted. He would live to see the Dark Lord’s defeat. Severus patted Dumbledore on the shoulder with evident reluctance. “How are you getting on without magic?”

“It’s enough, for the most part, that people believe in my power,” Dumbledore explained. _Serves you right for asking him a question,_ Severus told himself. _Why did you expect the proper answer?_

“I need Regulus’s arm,” he said.

Dumbledore pointed at the shelf where he had evidently preserved it in a jar.

“It was most useful. Care to tell me what your plan is? I might have lost my magic, but my mind is intact.”

“I will lure him into the shrieking shack.”

Dumbledore furrowed his brow. Lupin was recovering from his encounter with the diary, and was in no shape to disrupt the plan. Potter and Black were dead. Pomfrey was loyal to him. Only Peter Pettigrew could present a problem – Dumbledore suspected that one Voldemort meant him when he said to Severus that he had no need for a spy on the Order. “You need to watch out for Pettigrew. Otherwise, it’s a solid plan. I will summon the Order.”

“How?”

Dumbledore knew: it would be his last Patronus. But he felt that he could do it, if he focused on the thought that they had done it, after all.

“Let me do what I should’ve done in the first place, and arrange for your protection,” he said.

The Phoenix Patronus, huge, majestic, and almost solid, soared to do its caster’s bidding.

Suddenly, it occurred to Severus to ask for something.

“Do you think you could lift it?” he asked.

“Lift what, my dear boy?”

Severus winced at the words. In a low voice, he said: “the silencing spell.”

To his shock, Dumbledore handed him his wand. “I don’t think I have much magic in me anymore,” he said. “You may try.”

“It means I’ll be able to tell everyone what you did.”

“You don’t know the first half of what I did. I regret it. I hope you see it now.”

“Everyone I care about already knows,” Severus pointed out, and touched the tip of the wand to his throat.

It was almost imperceptible. It made no difference, really. Severus had lived under the effect of the spell since he was 15. He was 19 now. He wondered what might have happened if he had never been subjected to that spell.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice hollow, not knowing what he was thanking him for.

The Order members started sending Patronuses back. They said they were coming, that they would be hidden.

“You’d hoped you would duel him yourself,” Severus noted.

“That I did. But time makes fools of us all.”

“Some of us were fools to begin with,” Severus said, and summoned the jar containing Regulus’s arm.

He felt that the shrieking shack was surrounded by members of the order, all under disillusionment charms. He closed his eyes, and pressed down on Regulus’s Dark Mark, and then, on his own.

He was lightheaded as he prodded the knot in the Whomping Willow’s trunk with a long stick, suppressing the urge to check that the moon wasn’t full, and tossed the arm bearing the Dark Mark into the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack with all his might.

***

"But it was not master Regulus?"

"No, it was only my arm." Regulus pulled up his sleeve and showed him. "Dumbledore gave me this one, so that Lord Voldemort would not be able to hurt me from afar." As he said it, he looked at elves, and he thought about Severus, he thought about himself. Scenes of horrific violence ran through his mind, both self-inflicted and otherwise. He asked himself if it was truly necessary to amputate him without giving him something for the pain, and he realized he would only have agreed to go into hiding with Lily under extreme duress. _Oh well._ "And Voldemort, who had been looking for me, felt it on his own body, and he thought that Severus was turning me in."

***

Severus was already on his knees when Lord Voldemort came, but Lord Voldemort apparently did not have time for the formalities. "My Lord," Severus greeted him, with his eyes to the dirt beneath him.

"Where is the traitor?"

Severus stared down. The silencing spell prevented him from saying the truth, and he thought only: _The traitor is right in front of you._ He Occluded with all his considerable skill. All thoughts of marriage or the past or the future were as though they never existed. He imagined himself trapping Regulus in the Shrieking Shack, complete with the smell of the tunnel, the claustrophobic sensation of the low ceiling, the sound of the roots and branches from within the tunnel, which he would never forget.

"I captured him, My Lord. I thought you might like a chance to question him."

Lord Voldemort nearly stepped over him as he approached the Willow.

"How do I enter the tunnel, Severus?" He said, with an approving, almost fatherly expression.

Severus could not help but to think of Sirius as he answered his master's question. When his master crossed the entrance to the tunnel, Severus's hand held the stick that prodded the knot again, before Lord Voldemort could catch on to the fact that Regulus was not there. The Willow began to thrash and whip at the air around it again. Severus could feel the order's eyes on him. They were silent. They have been trained well. A scream of anger was heard from within the tunnel.

At the appearance of the Phoenix Patronus, Lily understood. She was, after all, still a member of the Order. "Come, it's happening now."

They had to squeeze to fit under the cloak and make sure Lily's belly was not peeking through.

"I hope this means you don't have to have the baby at a Muggle hospital," Regulus said, and they Apparated to the Shrieking Shack.

***

"How have they been? My parents. Before they freed you."

"Master Regulus has disappeared and Master Sirius was tried and imprisoned. Mistress and Master are very sick. They did not leave the house in a very long time. Kreacher wanted to help, but they were angry with him, and they set him free."

For the first time, Regulus felt the toll the ordeal had taken on his family. "Dumbledore pretended he was you," Kreacher continued, "and he told Kreacher I must lie for you. The Death Eaters came to look for you and question Mistress, every day, but now everybody thinks Mistress is mad."

"She's not your Mistress anymore," Regulus corrected him. Guilt engulfed him again. He never wanted his family to be hurt. But then, his mother had barely agreed to lift a finger so that Severus and Lily would help him. He was sure Cousin Bella would kill him. Cissy was married to Lucius, and he himself had murdered Sirius. _So much for the Noble House of Black._ "And I'm not your master," he added.

"Master Regulus can't speak like that!"

"Do you want to know what happened next?"

"Yes, Kreacher does."

***

Lily extracted herself from the cloak.

"It's you they want. You stay invisible. I am here on order business."

She went to sit by Severus, who was wearing the strangest expression.

"He's trapped," he said.

"Dumbledore said to watch out for Peter. He can transform into a rat."

Severus nodded.

He felt the Dark Mark burning. His master was angry. "Severus," Lord Voldemort asked from within the tunnel, but no one else seemed to have heard it. He was speaking into Severus's mind again. "The traitor is not here."

The temptation was so powerful, to gloat, to tell Voldemort it was all over… Severus looked at himself from above, by the Willow, so close to the ultimate victory. His mind was sealed even to himself.

"How could he have escaped?" Lord Voldemort asked.

"I don't know," Severus answered in his mind, but he knew the spell did not work like that, that it was intended only for the master to speak, not for the followers to answer.

The Mark now burned so black and hot, the pain was searing. "Come for me. Let me out".

Severus stood where he was. It happened faster than they could believe. Death Eaters were appearing one by one, and members of the Order began to shoot curses at them out of nowhere. They had to make sure Pettigrew was caught before they could attempt to escape. The Death Eaters came by Apparition, by the dozen. The Dark Lord's voice boomed through the air, and soon Peter became their smallest problem. "Guard the tree," Severus told Lily and ran.

The Dark Lord summoned his supplicants, and he ordered them all: "Touch knot at the base of the Willow and release your master, and you will be rewarded. Get me Severus Snape, dead or alive, and you will be rewarded and honored even more."

Severus saw him – Lucius. He ran toward him and screamed: "Don't capture me!"

"Give me one reason," Lucius said. _Friendship wouldn't do._

"The diary he gave you was destroyed, and the Dark Lord is mortal. Even if he makes it out alive, he will die soon, and if he finds out about the diary, you will be punished, Lucius. Ask Dobby. If you help me now, I will make sure the Ministry knows it."

The look on Lucius's face seemed to only ask: "How long?"

"From the beginning. I won't tell him you helped us, if he makes it out alive. I can lie to him. I beg you, Lucius."

"If you're lying to me, I will kill you myself, Snape."

"It's all I can ask," Severus admitted.

Lucius Summoned his elf, and cowering and terrified, the elf obeyed his master's order to trap Severus at the cellar of the Malfoy Manor, and he was as trapped and helpless as Voldemort was.

***

"But Master Regulus said he would marry-"

"Lily joined me – she told me what had happened."

***

Regulus threw the cloak off and set off in pursuit of Lucius.

He was immediately hit with an impediment jinx, and he crawled as though he had been chained to a ball.

"The entire order," he panted. "The entire order is here. Severus pretended he was me, and he took the diary. Maybe Cissy told you that she and I had met, but it was him. Please, we're family, Lucius. If you don't join the Death Eaters you won't spend a single day in Azkaban, and you will be a hero – we will give you credit. Just don't turn him in. Take me instead, if you must."

He was at Lucius's feet.

"He had other Horcruxes," Lucius spat at him.

"They're all gone."

"They can't be all gone."

"Yours is, and that's what he'll care about when he punishes you. He tortured me because Kreacher didn't die, and he doesn't even know we stole the locket. Please, please, you've already betrayed him, you just don't know it."

"I can make up for it," Lucius said. "I can give him both of you."

"Lucius, you recruited us, you'll be tortured just for that. The locket has been destroyed. Dumbledore stole the cup from Gringotts himself, and destroyed the ring, and Severus found the diadem and destroyed it too."

Lucius deliberated: _If they're lying, I've got Snape at the Manor. If they're telling the truth and they live, I'll be a hero if I help them - if they die, no one will know I let him slip through my fingers._

Then he remembered: _The Dark Lord is a legilimens._ As he looked at Regulus pleading and begging on the dirt, Lucius felt a flicker of resentment at having been forced to kneel before the Dark Lord.

"You're lucky you're my wife's cousin," he said to Regulus with contempt. The impediment jinx began to wear off. Regulus got up, dizzy, and he knew he had to make sure no one gets near the tree.

He cast _Cat's Grace_ on himself. It was almost the first time he had used magic in months. The spell felt stronger than Regulus remembered – he felt the instincts and reflexes of a predator awakening in him, and he ran toward the tree. Death Eaters were holding each other off, fighting to be the one who would release their master, but someone had almost made it, and Lily was fighting alone… With his heightened instincts, Regulus could sense his prey's movement before it happened. The Death Eaters recognized him, and he was able to fight them off, disarm them, so fast it looked as if he dueled Several of them at a time, but not for long – he was exhausted… Order members and Aurors and Death Eaters were shooting spells at each other, and Regulus barely had the strength to evade them as he fought to keep the Death Eaters away from the tree. He noticed he had managed to hit Peter, Potter's miserable bootlicking lackey, and then Voldemort's. But he would dwell on it later.

***

"Master Regulus fought so bravely for Severus –" Kreacher said, wiping a big, swollen tear.

"Severus fought for me, only with his mind, all this time when I was in hiding. It was the least I could do. And I wasn't fighting alone, I had the order, and I had Lily."

***

Months' worth of magical energy was pent up in Regulus and Lily, and they found that they were able to cast spells most effectively, but it was not enough, not nearly enough. Not all Death Eaters were warriors, and some of the warriors had already been wounded in battle and in no shape to fight, but Regulus and the Order were still outnumbered. Lily and he guarded the tree, sweat in their eyes, on the brink of collapse. Then, a ring of fire surrounded them. The Death Eaters who had been fighting closest to the tree jumped back in terror.

Bellatrix had arrived. She hit multiple Death Eaters with a single curse, and the others seemed merely petrified in fear.

"Dozens of Death Eaters and none can follow a simple command! Cowards, fools, and glory-seeking scum!" She yelled. Through the flames, she saw them, Regulus and Lily, who had run away together, Lily surely carrying the abomination that was the half-blood Black. She aimed her wand straight at Lilly's belly, but Regulus pushed Lily out of the way, dropped to the ground and raised his hands.

"Bella, don't. You have to listen to me. He's been lying to you."

"Defectors, blood traitors, and filth deserve only death," she yelled.

"His name is Tom Riddle. His father is a Muggle. He's a half-blood, and he doesn't love you. He told me so himself when he tortured me. Bella, he is lying to you, he's using you."

The Ministry seemed to take advantage of the distraction, and there were no Death Eaters left - Voldemort seemed to have saved his most devoted lieutenant for last – the ones coming now were coming one by one, and they were easy to capture.

Regulus was hit with a wave of pain, but it stopped as soon as it came. The Auror Moody knew that Crucio required intention and focus, that the formidable duelist could be taken over when she was mid-curse. She was disarmed and bound from afar, and the ring of fire that had threatened to swallow Regulus, Lily and the Willow was extinguished. As Regulus recovered from the curse, he heard her screaming: "He will come for me! you will never keep us apart!"

Her desperate screaming filled the air, and he knew: They had won.

"You saved my baby," Lily said breathlessly.

"We're even," he answered.

It was a harrowing sight, Death Eaters and Aurors and Order members and Ministry fighters lay, nursing their injuries, tending to their dead.

They wrapped themselves in the cloak again, and continued to guard the tree, lest a stray Death Eater come near it.

***

As Lord Voldemort grew weaker, the Dark Mark began to fade, and the pain it inflicted lessened. _But this does not mean they’re alive,_ Severus realized. He knew he could not expect for Dumbledore’s Patronus to tell him what had happened. _How had I allowed myself to be trapped here?_ He wondered. _If something happens to them, I’ll testify against Lucius,_ he decided.

The cellar door opened, and Severus drew his wand at the intruder, only to find out it was Lucius himself. “Are they alive?” He asked him.

“Yes, they are,” Lucius answered, and Severus again reminded himself to learn Legilimency at the first chance. “And as soon as you take a vow to clear my name, you may run along to reunite with them.”

Severus was not the 11-year old who depended on Lucius for protection or for guidance, anymore. He was a spell crafter. He had defeated the Dark Lord. Dumbledore was in his debt. Above all, he could no longer mistake Lucius’s treatment of him for kindness. He realized Lucius must have believed he was being extremely charitable when he took him under his wing - but he stepped over Rodolphus to take his place by the Dark Lord, and he must have known about everything the Dark Lord had done. To be spared Azkaban was all he deserved, no more. “I’m not taking a vow. I will tell the Ministry you betrayed the Dark Lord and took me to safety, but you and I both know you would have turned me over to him as soon as it was advantageous to do so.”

“You’ve been working for the Ministry all this time?”

“No. And the sooner you release me, the more I’ll speak in your favor. Regulus and I are getting married, Lucius - it’ll make for awkward dinner conversation if you keep me here longer.”

“I’ve always supported you,” Lucius reminded him with a menacing tone.

Severus refused to be coerced. Earlier that day, Dumbledore himself had apologized to him, and the Dark Lord walked into his trap. “And in exchange for your support, I’ve given you the opportunity to do something for the winning side, so that you would have a chance, any chance at all, of remaining a free man without paying an arm and a leg in bribes. Let me out of here, or Regulus and Lily will come get me, if, as you claim, they’re still alive. And if they’re not, Lucius, Azkaban will be the safest place for you.”

Severus walked out, took a deep breath, and Disapparated from the Manor, which was at one time the closest thing he had to a home. He was free of the silencing spell, of any debt of gratitude toward anyone - and of his master. He materialized by the Willow, where it all could have ended before it had begun. Wordlessly, he sat by Regulus and Lily, and joined their guard.

It took days, but it happened: Slowly but surely, the Dark Mark on Severus’s arm faded, and every time it did, Regulus and he compared them, happier and happier each time. It disappeared completely at dusk.

***

“And the first thing I did, once I was certain it was all over, was to look for you. Kreacher, would you like to be our elf? Severus’s and mine.”

Regulus was certain Kreacher would accept right away, but Kreacher seemed reluctant.

“Only if Master Regulus will never ask Kreacher not to help others save him,” Kreacher said.

“I don’t expect that this will be necessary,” Regulus smiled. “It’s over now. The Dark Lord is finished.”

Kreacher’s health seemed to be improving by the second.

“I love Master Severus,” he said.

“Me, too.”


	50. Chapter 50

“Good luck,” Regulus said, as he straightened Severus’s tie and sat back down. Severus walked up to the podium and looked down at the reporters, Order of Merlin Council members, and other dignitaries.

“It is my honour and privilege to accept this Order of Merlin,” he opened. “I certainly never dreamed I would be standing here. But the achievement is not mine alone, and it would be amiss to claim all the credit, where others have made incalculable contributions. You might expect me to thank Regulus, Lily, unexpected allies from very far away, but I have the rest of my life to be grateful to them. I would like to take this opportunity to thank others, some of whom are no longer with us.

To Horace Slughorn - thank you for making it abundantly clear to a half-blood from Cokeworth what it takes to be successful in life. Your sound advice about the importance of connections and appearances proved more useful than you could ever guess. You have been a paragon of impartiality, with your willingness to overlook house affiliations even when it was your students who had been endangered. You are a wonderful head of house, an inspiration for every Slytherin who wants to make something of himself. I’m sure generations of Slytherins to come will know exactly what they’ll get, when they come to you.”

Horace was mortified. Severus glanced at him and a crooked half-smile flashed for a second across his face. Behind him, Regulus looked up through closed eyes, praying to an unknown god.

Severus went over the list in his head. Dumbledore was next - but Severus decided not to take this chance to tell the world what Dumbledore had done to him. Dumbledore would die powerless - Severus finally felt like that was punishment enough, and he could not forget that he gave him back the love Voldemort took. On top of that, Severus abandoned the defense post without notice. _I have caused you enough trouble,_ Severus decided internally. _We’re even._

He took a deep breath. “To Walburga Black,” he continued, and he could feel Regulus wanting to hide his face with his hand, even though he knew the real Regulus would never stoop to gestures such as these. “I thank you in earnest for giving birth to Regulus, and hope to see you at our wedding. You sagely told him once that marriage is about power and tradition, and the honour of the Black name rests upon his shoulders. I hope you will find that I, who managed to both earn and erase the Dark Mark, will make a fine addition to your family, but worry not, my dear future mother in law. I will never take your name. On bended knee, I thank you for producing a son so utterly stupid and cruel, that Regulus had no choice but to be kind and clever. It is a shame that you refused to attend this ceremony, but I can only hope you will read about it in the Daily Prophet.

To Sirius himself - where do I begin to thank you? You were the inspiration for a spell I had devised, that ended up essential in winning the war. You told me how to get past the Whomping Willow. In doing that, you ended up becoming far more important in defeating Lord Voldemort than words can say. Without you, none of it would have happened. Wherever you are, Sirius, I hope you see this.”

 _Nuance would not do for this one,_ Severus thought.

“To Rodolphus LeStrange, whether this was fantastically foolish indiscretion or a carefully planned act of treason, only you know for sure, but you should know it resulted in a life saved and in a friendship restored.”

Severus raised his head. He wrote and crossed out, “to Narcissa, for being ridiculously easy to confund,” but he had bigger and better things in mind for the Malfoys. He skipped ahead.

“To James Potter. You saved my life, and you made my life not worth living. But I won, Potter, Snivellus has won, and I took back everything you stole from me. Regulus will teach your son how to fly, not you. Regulus, who beat you with a spell I created, that you never had a chance to steal too. Thank you for teaching me to appreciate what I had, Potter. Our children will grow up like siblings, and Harry will love his Uncle Snivellus.”

He thought about Lord Voldemort, who had nearly taken away his love, who was the biggest liar of them all. He had promised Severus protection, power, and love. He had promised Regulus a chance to honour and transcend his family name. All his promises, Severus realized, had come true. True gratitude now warmed him, for how fate had intervened to send his Regulus to him, when he thought he had lost everything. _But there’s something to be said for false gratitude as well._

“To Lucius,” Severus said with smooth satisfaction. “Your heroic and inspiring change of heart in the final moments ended the war. You have cleverly kept your true allegiance hidden, but I know, Lucius, that you have truly come to see the error of the Death Eaters’ ways, that you have become and will remain a staunch supporter of Muggle Borns, and I hope to see the Malfoy Fund for the Education and Care of Muggle-Borns come true. You deserve every praise, Lucius, for changing your stripes when nothing but a life sentence in Azkaban could come of it. The terrified first-year you took under your wing, and taught how to comport himself like the wizards that matter, who became the desperate young man you recruited into the Death Eaters yourself, will never forget everything you did for him.

Many others, too many to count, have played a role in my accomplishment. I can only humbly accept the honour and ask that everybody acknowledge their own part, if ever another person like me is pushed to the dark. Many were not lucky enough to be rescued from it. Thank you.”

He stepped off, with his chest light and his head held high.

“You know, we’re lucky nobody has to follow that!” Lily scolded him as she retrieved Harry from the elf who had been holding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go! Haven't written it yet, but you know what's coming!  
> Thank you for reading all of this.  
> It was supposed to be a birthday one-shot fic gift for @echomcl (whose birthday has long passed, so sorry your present didn't work out exactly like it should have echo), but has become this, what a ride, and it was so much fun to read your reviews!
> 
> THANK YOU!


	51. Chapter 51 - Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! Thank you, to echo who encouraged me to start this, to my anon amazing beta, and most of all to you!  
> If you'll excuse me, I got something in my eye...

When Regulus returned home one day with no fewer than seven elves in tow, Lily laughed so hard pumpkin juice spilled out of her nose. “Let me guess,” she said breathlessly, “Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, and, uh...”

Regulus stared at her with confusion, and she said she’d explain Grimm’s fairy tales another time. “Maybe when Harry is old enough to hear them too,” she added with a smile.

“Whatever,” he huffed indignantly at her. “They’re from the hospital. We’re going to find better homes for them than the wizards who got them there.”

“Fine by me, I’ve got a newborn, I need all the help I can get.”

Internally, though, the knot in Lily’s stomach tightened. Harry bore an uncanny resemblance to his father. While it helped put to bed the ridiculous rumors that Regulus was the father, she was constantly reminded of James. She knew she would have to go back to the Hollow, to the house they once shared, that it wouldn’t be long before she’d outstayed her welcome at Regulus’s and Severus’s flat. She closed her eyes, and she knew what she needed to do. She needed to mourn James as he was, which she never did.

The house in Godric’s Hollow had a once-lovely yard where they used to sit together on a swing and daydream and reminisce, and have tea or drinks with their friends. _His friends._ She conjured a makeshift memorial.

“James, I tried. I did everything I could for you. I had your child, “you-know-who” is gone. I named him Harry like I knew you’d want, I even found the closest thing to Sirius to be his godfather. But James, that’s it. I don’t know what I’ll tell him about you, I don’t know if Severus will be able to resist telling him the truth. But you should have thought of that, when you - alright. I’ll stop lecturing you. It’s no good - it never was.”

After a pause, she continued speaking, feeling absurd: “I hope I’ll raise him to be who I thought you were, James. Goodbye.”

She wiped her eyes. _So that was James’s funeral._ No body, no friends. She wondered how Remus was doing, and asked herself what the hell had happened to Peter. She looked at the house, that had been abandoned for the better part of a year. She was ready to start calling it home again.

***

“So who are we inviting?” Regulus asked. He never dreamed that this would be so complicated.

“Do you think Azkaban gives people day passes to attend family weddings?” Severus asked drily.

“Bella will kill any owl from me with her bare hands and eat it,” Regulus said. “I wrote down the Malfoys and I’m inviting Andromeda, so I hope they won’t embarrass themselves (“I hope they do”, Severus interrupted). Do you know she’s got a kid? I never even met her.”

“Fascinating.”

“Mum and dad - I have to.”

“Don’t worry, they’re my guests of honour.”

“Haha. But I’m serious, who are you inviting?”

“I told you, as long as you’re coming, I’m happy.”

“What about the Princes?”

Severus spluttered. “The filthy sods who didn’t do anything about the Muggle? No offense, but I’d sooner walk into a werewolf’s jaws.”

“So you’ll do it, then?”

“I’ll sooner destroy the Dark Lord himself.”

“I can’t wait to listen to this for the rest of my life!”

“I’ll sooner marry Sirius’s brother,” Severus answered back, much more warmly. “They shared a kiss over the scattered invitations.

“You won’t even do it to shove it in their faces?” Regulus demanded.

“I’ll think about it.”

“There’s not much time.”

Severus sighed. “I know.”

Regulus seemed to have taken his own words to heart. “Hey, Sev?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you still want to -”

“Stop being an idiot, Reg.”

“I only meant because -”

Severus had been practicing Legilimency, and he did not have patience for Regulus’s fledgling attempts to ask him. “You had asked, I said yes. You worry that it’s only because I wasn’t confident enough to believe anybody else could love me, before, right? And that I still don’t see my own value and if I did I would go find someone else. Or that he broke your mind too much, and you’re not the same Reg anymore, and I’ll realize this and leave.”

“I am entitled to the catharsis of saying it myself,” Regulus mumbled into an envelope, annoyed that on top of everything else, Severus was a master legilimens now, too.

Severus was empathetic. “I know how you feel. So?”

“What you said,” Regulus sulked.

“Only love could keep him out of my brain, you know that - if it had been my insecurity he would have infiltrated my mind with absurd ease. You kept him out that way and you didn’t even know it. He made me feel special and promised me everything you did, Reg, and I believed him, enough to get the Mark. But I stopped believing in him and I never stopped believing in you. I told him I used you to get to him, but we both know we joined him to be together, and here we are. As for your so-called broken mind, it’s only made me love you more. Remember back in Hogwarts, you told me I was beautiful? I believe you now. You’re more beautiful than ever.”

Regulus felt almost indecent. Such revelations should be made in the dark, he felt.

“And I’ll never leave, it’ll make your dear mum too happy, and I wouldn’t make an enemy out of Kreacher,” Severus added, to dispel the seriousness of their conversation. Regulus smiled, his moist eyes shimmering.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You did it for me.”

“Alright,” Regulus wiped his eyes. “I’ll stop being an idiot.”

***

Once they had decided to invite people not only to share their happiness with them, but to rub their faces in it, the guest list swelled to a respectable size. Regulus even considered inviting someone he only knew as “some wanker Manchester fan who punched Lily,” but to everyone’s relief, he decided against it. Blacks, Malfoys, Princes, even Dumbledore and Slughorn, some from the Order, a few of the Death Eaters who had been acquitted… The wedding was elegant and perfect, as Narcissa herself had helped them plan it.

Lily bonded them, though she asked herself internally if they really couldn’t find anybody else who knew more about marriage than she did. “It has to be you,” they’d insisted. “For one thing, all of my other friends are plotting their revenge against me in Azkaban,” Severus explained, “and Lucius will get the spell wrong on purpose.”

Not that it made any difference at all. This wedding was just for show. The real bonding had taken place the day before. After it was over, Severus, his heart swollen with happiness, rolled the pram back and forth while Harry cooed. He looked at Regulus and Lily, who had truly become friends, and at the ring on his own finger, and briefly wondered what might have become of all of them if the smallest thing had changed. He was so happy he heard them speaking through a haze.

“You know, I never felt right to ask, with everything going on, but - how on earth did you two, I mean, what did he do to you?!”

Regulus looked at Severus, then back at Lily. “It’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.”

“Very clever, Reginald.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Would you go to your own house, Lily? This is technically our honeymoon,” Severus snapped at her.

“Alright, alright, I’ll sod off. My child, if you will?”

***

Lily and Harry had traveled from Godric's Hollow to Severus and Regulus's, so that they could all take the Underground to King's Cross together. It had become something of a ritual.

“Alma, Helios, Celeste, Harry, if you’re not ready in five minutes, I’ll make sure to feature 15 minutes of choice childhood pictures of you at the end of my lecture this year.”

“You say that every year,” Alma said haughtily. “We’re not scared of you.”

“Make that three minutes or the boy you like will see your pictures with the penguins, Alma.”

 _“You_ took us to the zoo! it’s not fair!”

“Fine, then we won’t go this year.”

“DAD!”

“It’s alright, he’s bluffing,” Regulus interfered.

They were all ready on time.

Severus tried to hide the fact that he already missed them, as they started on the first leg of their journey.

“Don’t forget to write. And if anybody gives you a hard time” - his voice broke - “tell me. And I better not hear you’re giving anybody a hard time,” he added, resuming his usual tone.

They boarded the Express at 10:59, and the image of all the kids beaming as they reunited with their friends remained, burned into his retina, as he waved them off with the rest of the parents.


	52. Not a real chapter, just a question!

If anyone is still subscribed to this story for some reason LOL

I think I might have an idea for a sequel with Bella as the villain, maybe with the kids a bit grown up and playing a role, what do y'all think, is that something that could be fun or should I just let this story be finished? Anything else you might like to see?

Meanwhile, still working on my [Sev/OFC fic!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24521998/chapters/59203033)

Thanks for your input guys and girls (and everything in between!)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Halloween surprise!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079764) by [Trickster32](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster32/pseuds/Trickster32)




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